
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

©|ap3?2-<i@apt|rigi^t 0 . i 

Shelf. ' 

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. I 










Zbe Bevirs lIMa^Groun^. 





















Devil’s Playground 


B Storg of tbe Wllili) mortbwcat 



By JOHN MACKIE 

II 




*«cw 

FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY 
PUBLISHERS 




Copyright ^ 1894, by 

FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY 


Ay, /yoy 


CHAP. 

I. 

II. 

III. 

IV. 

V. 

VI. 

VII. 
VIII. 

IX. 

X. 

XI. 

XII. 

XIII. 

XIV. 

XV. 

XVI. 

XVII. 

XVIII. 

XIX. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE. 

“THE HUSKS THAT THE SWINE 

DID EAT . . .7 

“ COMING EVENTS CAST THEIR 

SHADOWS before’’ ' . 1 7 

“ WHAT CHANCE HAS BROUGHT 

YOU HERE . . 33 

HER HUSBAND . . 48 

BRUIN AT BAY . . .68 

“ I don’t think she’s happy 

WITH HIM ” . .78 

THE ROUND-UP . . .88 

AGAINST TIME AND FIRE . ' I03 

“ CURSE HER FOR HER HEART- 
LESSNESS ! ” . .no 

DEEPER IN THE TOILS . I23 

“ HANDS UP,” AND THE NORTH- 
WEST MOUNTED POLICE . 1 35 
“LIKE A WORM l’ THE BUD ” 1 56 

THAT LAND WHERE NOBODY 

LIVES . . .165 

WHERE THE DEVIL AMUSES 

HIMSELF . . .175 

HIS SATANIC MAJESTY MAKES 

A MOVE . . .186 

A BLIZZARD . . .201 

THE GRIM TWIN SHADOWS . 210 
WHICH WINS ? . . . 225 

CHECKMATED . . . 240 













THE DEVIUS PLAYGROUND, 


CHAPTER I. 

“ THE HUSKS THAT THE SWINE DID EAT” 

** The greatest mistake a man can make/* 
philosophized the Sage, is to fall in love with a 
married woman. Of course I never did anything 
of the sort myself ; but Tve watched fellows get 
that way and reckoned they were to be pitied. 
I call it a mistake ; because I don't believe that 
any one in his sober senses, when he first feels 
himself attracted by his neighbor’s wife, 
dreams of allowing such a suicidal condition of 
things to get the upper hand of him. But 
what he does not want to do, and what he 
eventually does, are only separated by a matter 
of sentiment to begin with, and amount to the 
same thing in the end. If he is one of the un- 
fortunate ones — all heart and no head — he drifts 
into it like a man who has been fooling about 
in a small boat above Niagara Falls, and whose 
fate is a foregone conclusion. The first step 
in this direction generally begins with a mere 
mutual attraction ; the next, some fancied 
affinity. Then comes the inevitable ' something 


8 tTbe WcviVe iPlai^Qtounb* 

stronger ’ until the last state of that man is 
worse than the first, and the finish up is either 
a most unpleasant racket, or — at least some- 
thing that is equally unsatisfactory. It is one 
of those things in human affairs that a fellow 
can’t take philosophically.” 

The speaker was a fresh-faced youth, as 
yet with only the callowest kind of down upon 
his upper lip. There was the unmistakable 
stamp of gentle birth upon his jface, and the 
tell-tale one upon his personal attire, that plainly 
spoke of having “ come through the mill.” In 
fact, so far as the outward appearance of both 
himself and his companion were concerned, no 
one could have told them from a couple of 
ordinary laborers on the tramp. Their clothes 
were of the commonest description ; and to tell 
the truth, there lurked a suspicion about their 
linen of an absence of soap and water. The 
elder of the two was a tall, spare man of per- 
haps a trifle over thirty years of age or so, who, 
despite his commonplace and not too well 
cared for attire, would have attracted attention 
anywhere. He was dark, self-possessed, and 
alert-looking ; and there was that touch of devil- 
may-care good nature upon his not unpleasant 
face, that stamped him as one of the rolling- 
stone species. One who by some accident or 
other, had fallen or drifted from a better state 
of things into an easily borne condition of hard- 
upness. One who had missed his vocation in 
life, but whose talents were versatile. One 


(Tbe *l)U 6 b 9 that tbe Swine bib 9 


without any particular aim or object in view ; 
for whom poverty had no particular terrors, or 
riches power to stimulate ; and who could 
shoulder a pick, or drive a pen across paper 
with equal equanimity. Such a man was the 
exclusive and patient audience that the younger 
one commanded. 

They sat with their backs against a log upon 
the banks of a creek, and lazily smoked their 
pipes. Either the keen, dry air of the Canadian 
Northwest had exercised a somniferous effect 
(to which prairie air is conducive) upon the elder 
of the two ; or perhaps it was the sage remarks 
that fell from the lips of his youthful but ex- 
perienced companion, for several times his head 
drooped forwards, then was jerked as suddenly 
backwards. Perhaps after this, for another 
twenty seconds or so, he would catch the drift 
of his companion s remarks, and would listen 
with some vague consciousness of being 
amused. Dick Travers was evidently a good 
listener ; he seldom interrupted, and the Sage 
proceeded — 

“ I remember a case where a Platonic, milk- 
and-water sort of chap became spooney on a 
married woman ; but his platonics took the in- 
evitable turn. He dangled after her for years ; 
took to writing poetry and all that sort of 
thing : neglected his business in consequence, 
and finally went to the dogs. And the best, 
or worst, of it was that the woman didn't care 
a rap for him after all ! ” 


10 ^be BcviVid iPla^avounD^ 

At this point of the narrative the elder, who 
had a minute before nearly jerked his head 
off, caught the drift of the Sage’s remarks 
and queried — 

Petrarch ? ” 

“ Oh, Petrarch be hanged ! ” shortly contended 
the Sage, with an uncomfortable sensation that 
his senior was chaffing him. “ I told you I 
knew the man.” 

Ah ! poor old chap ; I didn’t drop to it at 
first. How old are you now ? ” asked the other 
with an irritating air of sympathy. 

Twenty-one in November,” began the Sage 
unsuspectingly, and stopped abruptly. “ But 
hang it, man. I’m not the fellow any more than 
Petrarch was ! ” 

Then, becoming conscious of something 
incongruous in the association, he laughed in a 
silent, irritated sort of way to himself, and 
for a few minutes relapsed into a discreet silence. 
But the Sage was no fool, and despite his weak- 
ness for airing his views upon life and things 
in general, often hit upon some subtle truths 
which might have been evolved from a more 
colossal experience than his could possibly have 
ever been. 

The day was close and sultry : the valley in 
which they were shut out any breath of air which 
might be straying away above them on the 
higher lands. The creek had dried up to an 
almost imperceptible shadow of its former self, 
but still kept murmuring over the rocks and 


**XLbc 1bU6ft0 that tbe Swine biD J6at/' n 


gravel in a subdued and expostulating sort of 
way. Up on the bench (as the plateaus are 
called in North America) it was little better ; in 
fact the air was if anything more suffocating 
than in the coullee. From the north and east 
there rose a range of hills, whose rugged sides 
were covered with timber. But to the south 
and west the prairie rolled away in a series of 
wave-like buttes and coulles ; only broken by 
an uncertain, thin, green streak of timber, which 
fringed and marked the course of the creek 
upon which they were camped. There was no 
sign of human habitation on that prairie. It 
seemed, in spite of its rich-looking pastures 
as desolate as any desert. Had it not been for 
a few straggling head of horses and cattle hard 
by — slowly making for the creek, as if they 
found the heat of the prairie unendurable, and 
could stand it no longer — it might have passed 
for a veritable No Man’s Land : a country in 
which nobody lived. But perhaps the pre- 
dominant feature of the scene, and that which 
impressed the beholder more powerfully than 
any peculiarity of either earth or sky, was the 
silence of this land. It was a silence that made 
itself felt : it was portent with a sense of 
loneliness. Had it not been for the faint mur- 
muring of the shadowy creek, the whole scene 
might have belonged to some lunar landscape — 
some dead world in which no note or sound 
ever broke the eternal silence of death. 

‘‘I say, Dick,” the younger man suddenly 


12 


2>e\nr6 K>la\>ai*oun&. 

exclaimed, “ has it not struck you that we’re 
getting a little further from civilization than 
we bargained for ! They told us at Walsh 
that we were sure to strike a ranche of some 
sort out here, where they’d want hands for 
some coming ‘ round-up ’ or other. We’ve 
walked fifteen miles or more this morning 
already ; but if there are any ranches I think 
they must be gopher ones, or where they rear 
prairie-chickens.” 

“ Well, yes, I suppose it has struck me,” 
answered the other unconcernedly, as if it were 
a matter of no particular importance. “ I rather 
imagined a couple of hours ago or so that we 
had taken the wrong trail ; but I didn’t think it 
worth while mentioning the fact. You see. 
Jack, to quote your own words, ‘ there’s noth- 
ing like taking things philosophically.’ I’ve 
been doing it these last four or five years; 
actual experience has only gone further to con- 
vince me that it’s the best way after all. Why 
don’t you practise what you preach ” 

“ Oh, hang it all, you know, Dick ! ” an- 
swered the Sage, “ that’s expecting too much of 
a fellow to practise and preach both ! You 
surely don’t want me to be inconsistent ? One 
would think, to listen to you, that I was anything 
but practical. Now I would humbly venture to 
remark that I am eminently so ; and to prove 
it I will point out that though we’ve had a 
good meal — that’s to say, as good as we’re in 
the habit of having in this vagabond existence 


Zbc 1 bu 0 ft 9 that tbe Swine DID iBdiV* 13 


of ours — we have not got quite enough for 
another. A couple of sailor's biscuits — felici- 
tously called ‘ hard tack ’ — and a quarter of a 
pound of cold bacon, is all we have left in 
the commissariat department. Moreover, ‘ the 
night cometh when no man can work,' and the 
shade of a cotton-wood tree is a poor apology 
for a blanket in a climate like this. By Jove, 
Dick, don’t you know, I often feel like the chap 
in the parable, who filled his belly with the husks 
that the swine did eat.” 

Poor young Sage ! But you are not the first 
gently-nurtured youth who has felt the same 
thing, — Australia, Africa, Canada are teeming 
with such as you. 

The Sage had broken off abruptly in his 
unwonted speech. To do him justice, he was 
not in the habit of allowing his surroundings 
to affect his spirits. But there are times, which 
come even to the most hardened, when the ‘ still, 
small voice ’ within us will not be stilled, and 
plays the part of an avenging Nemesis to our 
lives. 

The Dick referred to glanced suddenly and 
sharply at his companion ; and something very 
like pity showed for an instant upon his face. 
Then, as if he had something disagreeable to 
say, he stared right ahead of him, and tried 
to infuse a certain amount of hardness into 
his voice as he said — 

Now, Jack, you’re talking sense, and touch 
upon a point that’s been on my mind for some 


14 ^bc lS>cviV 6 iPla^Qrounb* 

time back. I think you are wasting your time. 
You never did anything that in the Old Country 
you need be particularly ashamed of — neither 
did I for that matter, only that I was a cursed 
fool. You have got a good home to go to, and 
here you are playing the very deuce with your 
expectations ; and all for what ? Simply for 
the privilege of leading a vagabond existence 
like this ; of wandering from one place to an-, 
other, and having to submit to all sorts of 
hardships and discomforts. You were with me 
on the diggings at Shingle Springs, and you 
know what killing work that was. We har- 
vested down in Wyoming; and you remember 
how you said that another month like that 
would make an old man of you. Now I don’t 
see that our prospects are likely to improve. 
You’ve had a row with your people because you 
wouldn’t stop at home and become a respect- 
able member of society ; when all that was 
asked of you was to sit in an office for a few 
^ hours every day. Take my advice, Jack, pocket 
your pride and go home ; write and tell them 
you’re coming, and follow the letter up— de- 
pend upon it, they will be glad to see you. I 
dare say I’ll miss you now and again, but fancy 
that after a bit I’ll find it rather a relief to be 
rid of you.” 

“ Dick,” said the other, staring in a de- 
liberate fashion at the opposite bank, '‘I be- 
lieve you do want to get rid of me. I believe 
there are lots of billets you would have taken if 
I had not been saddled to you ! ” 


^be 1bu0b6 that tbe Swtne DID 15 


“ Stop that d d silly talk ! ” said Travers, 

rather inconsistently, considering what he had 
just said a minute before. 

“ Well then, Dick,” said the younger man, 
taking no notice of his companion s seeming 
display of temper, and proceeding as if he had 
suddenly caught a glimpse of sunshine through 
a fog, “ why don’t you practice what you preach, 
and go home too ? ” 

“ Because, lad,” was the reply, in a tone 
that showed he did not exactly relish the 
subject, but with an assumed jauntiness in his 
speech, “ I could not better myself by so doing. 
Besides, to play the role of the prodigal son, 
argues a home to go to, and a father or mother, 
as the case may be, who is willing to let by- 
gones be bygones. Now there is no haven like 
that for me. If I did arrive in the Mersey to- 
morrow, and wanted to telegraph ahead the 
orthodox ‘ fatted calf for one,’ there is no one I 
could address it to. No, lad, the old sod could 
awaken nothing but vain regrets. I’ve made 
my bed and must lie on it.” 

And here, as if offering an involuntary protest 
to his jaunty form of speech, he sprang to his 
feet and paced uneasily up and down for a few 
minutes, with his hands thrust deep in his 
trousers pockets. 

The Sage, otherwise known as Jack Holmes, 
eyed him strangely. 

“ I’ve stirred him up again,” he muttered 
to himself. “ Poor old Dick ! he has been 


i6 Zbc 'BcviVe iPla^QrounD* 

pretty badly hit at some time or other, and 
now he must walk it off/’ Then aloud he 
said, “ I say, Dick, don’t you think we’d better 
get under weigh ? It must be three o’clock at 
least ; let’s take the trail going up the creek. 
I fancy we are bound to strike that English- 
man’s ranche they were talking about, and we 
can get shelter for the night anyhow, if we 
can’t get work. By Jove ! I believe we’re going 
to have a thunder storm — do you see that big, 
black cloud ? What ! you’d rather not go to 
any Englishman’s? Well, as I’m a sinner, 
you’re a queer one ! ” — Travers had, with a pre- 
occupied air, dissented from his companion’s 
proposition. — “ Phew ! how stifling and sultry it 
has got all of a sudden. Let’s march.” 

They picked up their belongings, which, 
like the enterprising prodigal’s in the parable, 
could not have been of any particular inconven- 
ience to the carrier, and, turning their faces up 
the creek, trudged on their way. 


CHAPTER II. 


‘‘COMING EVENTS CAST THEIR SHADOWS 
BEFORE.” 

It was a large, roomy, two-storied log- 
house, with a wing at the back, and weather- 
boarded on the outside. In Ontario, or any 
other part of the world, it would have been 
considered only a very ordinary place of abode. 
But up here in the Cypress Hills, where you 
might travel for twenty miles and not see a 
house, it seemed a veritable palace. It had 
actually a French window looking to the south, 
which suggested a higher civilization than one 
would have expected to meet with, in such an 
out-of-the-way part of the world. But per- 
haps it was the peculiar situation of this house, 
that was its particular charm. It nestled at 
the foot of a steep, savage-looking, pine-crested 
crag, which here and there was streaked with 
warm dashes of pink — the work of Mother 
Nature ; a fringe of tall, dark pines behind and 
on one side of it, and a lawn-like stretch of 
softest prairie in front, which sloped gradually 
down to a little lake. Away to the south rolled 
a vast, billowy ocean of prairie of a dun color, 


i8 ^be 2)evir0 plasQtounb^ 

which in the far distance became so undefined 
and spectre-like, that it was hard to determine 
the horizon line : so gradual was the change 
from earth to sky, and such an air of dreamy 
unreality seemed to pervade it. 

It was a spot for a house that none but an 
artist could have chosen, and the one who had 
chosen it was an artist and a woman. Her 
husband, Tom Tredennis, was an easy-going 
specimen of the sport-loving Briton. He had 
reached the mature age of seven-and-thirty 
without ever having known what it was to earn a 
day’s bread, being well endowed with the 
world’s goods, when one fine morning, several 
months before this notice of him, through the 
death of a younger brother, he discovered that 
he was the possessor of a cattle ranche in the 
Northwest Territories of Canada. This 
younger brother— whose existence had nearly 
escaped his recollection— had been an anomaly 
in the family— a worker. He had by a certain 
amount of natural ability and perseverance, 
built up a ranche and a herd of cattle, the brand 
of which was known far and wide. Tom was 
long-headed enough to know, that unless he 
himself took a journey across the Atlantic to 
look after the property, he would be the loser by 
the omission. He suddenly recollected that in 
one of his very rare letters home, his brother 
had spoken about the bears that came down 
from the mountains in the spring and killed his 
calves. He also remembered having heard 


'' Coming jBvcntB Caet SbaDowa/" 19 


from some other “ rolling-stone who had been 
out there, of the bands of antelope and black- 
tail that roamed over these hills, and that 
settled the matter. He suddenly came to the 
conclusion that poor Hector’s affairs must be 
wound up by him alone, were it only out of 
respect for that poor brother he had seen and 
thought so little about. A good excuse for a 
prolonged sporting tour was what he had long 
wanted ; he had one now. And then another 
difficulty suddenly confronted him. He some- 
how was not remarkable for forethought. There 
was a contingency he had not provided against, 
and that was his wife. 

A few years before he had been the most 
exemplary of lovers ; he had an easy-going self- 
assurance about him, that carried him trium- 
phantly through love, as it generally did through 
all other things. He had fancied himself genu- 
inely in love with the girl whom he afterwards 
made his wife, and who was at least twelve 
years his junior. When he married her out of 
that house where she lived — being an orphan — 
with a straight-laced uncle and aunt who had a 
large family of their own, he fancied he had 
done a rather sensible thing, and something that 
he would never regret. Perhaps he had never 
regretted it ; but it had sometimes suggested it- 
self to him, that his wife had not been quite as 
much in love with him, as he had been with her. 
In fact, when on that momentous occasion he 
had (with only a little less of his self-assurance 


20 ^be Devira ©la^grounb* 

than usual) asked her to be his wife, she had 
told him as much. 

And then he had made a little speech which 
is as old as the hills, and which is unlike most 
speeches made in the pages of fiction, in that it 
frequently finds utterance in actual life. 

I can hardly expect,” he had said, that one 
like you, can fancy all at once an ordinary sort 
of fellow like me. But this I think, that if you 
like me just a very little, you will come to care 
for me through time, just as much as if you had 
allowed your heart to run away with your 
head.” 

And the high-spirited girl consented to be 
his wife, not that by so doing she would escape 
from a home where she was anything but happy, 
to one of luxury and ease, but partly because 
she had a genuine admiration for the man who 
did not insult her by holding out these advan- 
tages before her, and who, if anything, rather 
underestimated any redeeming qualities he was 
possessed of. It was about this time that the 
irrepressible Mrs. Grundy hinted, that the real 
reason of her casting in her lot with one whose 
tastes were so dissimilar to hers, arose from 
pure motives of pique ; an old lover who had gone 
abroad was about to marry some one else. But 
there was, perhaps, just as much truth in this 
as in any of Mrs. Grundy’s other statements — 
at least so far as Mrs. Grundy’s actual knowl- 
ledge extended. 

For some time after his marriage, Tom Tre- 


Coming Bventa Cast Shadows/' 21 


dennis was perhaps not without a curious vein 
of speculation as to why his wife should be pos- 
sessed with such a feverish desire for change, 
and seemed to dread anything like the dulness 
of provincial life. Without having any particular 
tastes in common, they pulled together as well 
as most newly-married couples do. For a 
while he denied himself many of his accustomed 
pursuits, to bring her nearer to him than he felt 
she was; but gradually and imperceptibly he 
lapsed back into his old bachelor ways, and 
they drifted apart. But still, they never posi- 
tively clashed. He thought as much of her as 
ever, but it was not in his undemonstrative 
nature to show it. As for her, she at least ad- 
mired him for the many sterling qualities that 
made up an honest if not exactly a congenial 
spirit. However, much to Tom’s surprise and 
greatly to his relief, when he told her of the 
business that would take him away from Eng- 
land to Canada for several months, and asked 
her whether she would prefer to rough it with 
him for that time in the Northwest, or amuse 
herself the best way she could in England while 
he was away, she jumped at the first alternative, 
and betrayed an eagerness to be off that 
puzzled him not a little. 

“ I am sick of England,” she had said, “ and 
have been pining for a change like this ever so 
long.” 

And, considering that she had enjoyed more 
of her share of change, as enjoyed by the 


22 ttbe lS>cviV6 ipla^grounb^ 

average British matron of the moneyed class, 
it dawned upon him that he was as far from 
understanding her as ever. But he suddenly 
recollected that he would require an “ Express 
rifle or two, and here his speculations promptly 
ceased. 

They came out in the spring, and both were 
charmed with the fresh and peculiar features 
of the Cypress Hills and prairie country — she 
from an artistic and picturesque point of view, — 
she was an artist of no mean promise, — and he 
from a sportsman’s who had found a mine of 
wealth in fresh fields. In short, instead of sel- 
ling the ranche, he determined to keep it on. 
There was a good Scotch foreman on the place, 
and it would pay him handsomely to do so. 
They could come over and live a month or 
two on it every year. His wife chose the 
site for a new house, some distance removed 
from the old log one, the corral, and other 
buildings. In a month or so the new house 
was run up ; and as she had brought her maid 
with her, and easily procured from a town bear- 
ing the picturesque name of Medicine-Hat ” 
all the help she wanted, and, with what was of 
more importance, plenty of money, she soon 
had a house that looked to a certain degree 
home-like. 

And now on the day spoken of in the first 
chapter of this series of events, when the two 
peripatetic philosophers were plodding wearily 
along the trail in the direction of this particular 


'' Coming iBvcnte Cast SbaDovva/' 23 


ranche, Mrs. Tredennis sat looking out upon the 
dun-colored prairie. A short time before, the 
heated waves of air had been distorting it into 
all sorts of fantastic shapes. But a huge bank 
of clouds had rolled up, and there was an 
ominous stillness in the air. 

That she had a striking style of beauty her 
greatest detractors could not but admit. She 
could not have been much over twenty-three 
years of age or so. She was only an ordinary 
sized woman, but her physique was perfect, and 
spoke of health and training which gave a more 
queenly grace to the charm of her well-poised 
head. A transparent freshness of complexion 
was hers, and a wondrous harmony of feature. 
But these attributes alone could not have dis- 
tinguished her from the general run of women. 
It was the expression and character in her face 
that so many of her admirers had vainly tried 
to analyze. Her lustrous and large eyes were 
pregnant with a light that betokened no ordi- 
nary mind. It would have been hard to de- 
termine of what color these eyes were ; they 
might have been blue, or grey, or hazel ; they 
seemed to change with every mood that pos- 
sessed the mind of the owner for the time 
being. But, after all, there were those who 
said that the expression in them was not always 
a happy one. 

And just then, perhaps, they would have been 
justified in saying so. But she was roused from 
her reverie by a prosaic interruption. 


24 Zbc WcviVe ©lai^grount)* 

“ 1 want you to catch on here, Chrissie," said 
Tom Tredennis, her husband, dressed in a 
rough tweed suit, with a gun barrel in his 
hand, and a cleaning rod projecting a foot or so 
from the same, as he entered the room. You 
see I wrapped too much tow round this con- 
founded cleaning rod, and it has got jammed 
fast. As next to myself you’re the strongest 
individual in the house at present, I thought I’d 
ask you to pull against me.” 

He stopped opposite her and regarded her 
smilingly, as if it were only the most matter of 
fact thing in the world he asked her to do. He 
was a good-looking fellow enough, sunburnt, 
bearded, and with a frank, honest expression on 
his face, but with no marked expression or 
feature that would have distinguished him from 
the average good-looking and healthy, well- 
born, sport-loving Briton. 

She turned from the window. “ Then you 
must let me get my back to the wall, Tom. 
You’re such a giant — for if it should give all of 
a sudden ” 

She smiled pleasantly as she poised herself 
and caught the cleaning-rod in a business-like 
fashion. 

Now, then, twist to the right, and I’ll twist 
to the left,” she said. 

A short, sharp tug-of-war, and in another 
second the refractory rod was safely extracted. 

“ Well done ! ” he exclaimed, looking at her 
admiringly; but whether in admiration of her 


Coming Evento Caat SbaDowo/' 25 


fair young English face, or at the workmanlike 
way in which she had helped him, it would have 
been difficult to speculate upon. 

“ ril give you a kiss for that one of these days 
^if you behave yourself," he added, playfully. 

‘‘ Why not now, Tom ? ’’ she rejoined, looking 
at him with a sudden, shy light on her face that 
would have settled the matter with most men. 
“ The mood does not strike you quite so often 
as it used to, and you know delays are dan- 
gerous." 

She had never spoken to him like this before. 

“ Well," he answered, laughing, and ex- 
amining the choke of one of the barrels which 
he held in his hand critically, '' you might give 
me credit, you know, and I'll give you liberal 
interest when I pay you." 

He might have only wanted to tease her, 
after the fashion of some men, who have far- 
seeing views in regard to the policy of not mak- 
ing themselves too cheap. But he kissed his 
hand to her, which, for an undemonstrative 
man like him, was a remarkable concession, and 
left the room. 

He could not see her face as the light left her 
eyes, and that inscrutable look come into them 
— that look which someone has painted as ever 
haunting the sad eyes, and resting upon the 
sweet face of the Egyptian queen — fateful and 
weary, as if from some hope long deferred. 

She sat looking out upon the little lake, and 
away over the billow-like expanse of rolling 


26 'dbc WcviVQ iPla^grounD* 

prairie. It was growing remarkably dark, and 
the stifling heat had given place to a sudden 
cold rush of air. Then a far-off, muffled roar 
was borne upon it. It gathered strength, and 
changed into startling, portentous peals as it 
traveled nearer and nearer. Then a thunder- 
clap right overhead, that rattled and echoed 
away among the crags and wooded heights, 
like a feu-de-joie from a battery of artillery. 
She sat immovable through it all, when sud- 
denly her husband entered the room. 

Why, Chrissie, what a queer girl you are, to 
be sure — you've got the window open, and 
you’re not scared a bit, as nine women out of 
ten would be.” And he hastily closed the 
window. 

It did not enter into his calculations that she 
might be the tenth woman. 

As if roused from a spell, and conscious that 
she must have seemed strange to him, she ap- 
peared anxious to talk, and he sat down op- 
posite her. 

“ Tom, talking of painting, do you think that 
sulphurous coloring in that great cloud over 
there would be difficult to catch } If one could 
only convey the idea of its being instinct with 
some coming evil ! You see, one must sug- 
gest more than what is merely physical now- 
adays.” 

She said this as if it had only that moment 
struck her, and not as if it had arisen from 
some train of thought that suggested a natural 
sequence. 


Coming J6vent6 Cast SbaDovvs/^ 27 

“ Pshaw ! Chrissie; I daresay a dash of burnt- 
sienna mixed with a little yellow-ochre, or some 
blend of that sort, would about hit it off. Pd 
prefer a gayer subject myself. I am afraid 
you’ve a morbid sort of fancy.” 

She neither winced nor bit her lip, sensitive as 
she naturally was. Even a child will become 
apathetic after a time, when its disposition is 
not understood and it is habitually snubbed. 
It only seemed as if her eyes became darker 
in their color, as she gazed fixedly out upon 
the darkening landscape. Suddenly she ex- 
claimed — 

“Look, Tom! — don’t you see them? — a 
couple of men on foot, I declare ! — the first 
human beings I have seen come from the direc- 
tion of that great lone land where nobody 
lives.” 

“By Jove! so there are! — your eyes are 
sharper than mine. American deserters, I 
should say ; and they’ve come out of their way 
— most horribly out of their way, from Fort 
Assiniboine. They must have had a lively time 
of it, without a house for considerably over a 
hundred miles. Phew ! it’s beginning to rain in 
earnest. What on earth can they be stopping 
for, I wonder ? ” 

The men he referred to could be seen now 
upon a rising piece of ground, against the grey, 
portentous sky, where that mysterious light 
threw them out into strong relief. The taller 
of the two seemed to hesitate at a trail which 


28 Zbc WcviVe IPlai^Grount)^ 

would have taken them directly west, and away 
to nowhere in particular ; and the other had ad- 
vanced a few yards on the trail that led direct to 
the manager’s house and other buildings of the 
ranche. They seemed disputing as to which 
they should take. At last the taller of the two 
seemed to have been influenced by the other, 
and both came leisurely in the direction of the 
buildings before mentioned. 

How strange ! ” Mrs. Tredennis remarked ; 
“ it is raining heavily, and they don’t seem to 
hurry a bit.” 

Probably a wash is a novelty now and again 
to them,” he remarked, '‘By Jove! though, 
how opportunely the rain has come ; it will put 
some water in the creeks for the stock. ” 

“ I suppose, Tom, MacMillan knows enough 
to do what he can for these poor fellows, 
whether they are deserters or not ? ” she said, 
paying no heed to his practical remarks about 
the water in the creek. 

“ Of course, my dear ; and we want men badly 
just now. Whether they are deserters or not, 
if they can only sit on the back of a horse, or 
can cook or do anything at all, I should like to 
secure them for the ‘ round-up.’ I’ll hunt up 
my waterproof, and just step over to Mac- 
Millan’s after a bit.” 

In half an hour he rose and left ; in another 
half hour or so he was back. The lamps were 
now lit upon the table. 

“ It is a ‘ rocky ’ night, as they term it in this 


Coming JBvcnte Cast SbaDowa/^ 29 

country,” he remarked, as he entered the cheer- 
ful room. ‘‘ Do you know, Chrissie,” he con- 
tinued as if imparting something that had 
evidently impressed him, “ that we have two 
rather uncommon visitors at MacMillan's over 
the way.” 

American deserters ? ” she queried. 

Guess again,” he said. 

'' Tramps.^ ” as if it were of little interest to 
her. 

‘‘ Hardly,” and he seemed to enjoy the asso- 
ciation of ideas. ''Well, they are tramps, 
perhaps ; and in appearance they don’t belie 
the title ; but I know English gentlemen, born 
and bred, when I see them.” 

" How interesting ; the prodigal of the 
parable,” she remarked wearily, " or some poor 
fellows who have not found pupil-farming as 
lively as they expected, and find looking for 
work not a trifle livelier. But, oh ! I’m in an 
uncharitable frame of mind, and should not 
talk like this. I hope you will do what you can 
for them, Tom. What did they say for them- 
selves ? ” 

And now she betrayed a little more interest, 
and looked at her husband, who continued — 

" Well, one of them, the elder of the two, had 
precious little to say, and it struck me he didn’t 
care about saying any more than he could help. 
Not a bad-looking sort of fellow, but a devil- 
may-care one, it wasn’t hard to see. But the 
younger of the two — I wouldn’t suppose him to 


30 ^be Bevir^ ipla^cjvounb* 

be more than two-and-twenty or so — is a char- 
acter in his way. To hear him talk you would 
suppose him to be about sixty years of age, and 
with all the experience of an eventful lifetime ; 
he appears to be an anomaly. When I went 
over to MacMillan’s they were drying their 
clothes, which were very so-so articles indeed. 
I asked the elder of the two where they were 
bound for. He replied, ‘Right on, wherever 
that may be ; anyhow, it isn’t of much conse- 
quence whether we get there or not. In fact, 
we’d as soon not get there.’ Cool, wasn’t it ? 
Had it not been for his manner, which was 
perfectly good-natured and courteous, I would 
have considered this answer savored of flip- 
pancy. Then the younger fellow chipped in, 
and said they were looking for work, if they 
could get it ; but his comrade said that, ‘ so far 
as he was concerned, he thought he’d go on a 
little farther — he had enough for a few more 
meals.’ And here the two had an argument — 
the one wanting to go on, the other to stop. 
The upshot of it was, I offered them good in- 
ducements, and said they could try it for a 
couple of weeks, when, if it did not suit them, 
they could go if they wanted to. They con- 
sented, so I suppose they will start in to-mor- 
row. Upon the whole I like their style ; they 
are at least respectable ; and, if they have not 
got all the experience one would wish, they can 
learn. The sight of some of those nondescript 
cowboys — who have an idea that by putting on 


'' Coming Events Caet SbaDowe/' 31 


a pair of leather chaperegos, sticking a revolver 
in their belt, a slouch hat on their head, talking 
through their noses, swearing, and whose sole 
ambition is to be considered ‘ tough ’ — makes 
me sick. What are you thinking about, Chris- 
sie ? ” he added, after a pause. 

She had been sitting with her hands folded 
on her lap, and with a troubled air. She roused 
herself with a start, and regarded him 
strangely. 

“ Things I don’t think you would understand, 
and would only laugh at me if I told you of,” 
she answered indifferently. ‘‘ However, as 
your queer visitor over at MacMillan’s remarked, 
* it’s of no consequence.’ I have had a queer 
fancy all day, and thought this morning that it 
would wear away with a headache, but now it’s 
stronger on me than ever.” 

“ Thunderstorms often have that effect upon 
certain temperaments,” remarked Tom. “I 
hope you haven’t caught a cold, Chrissie ; that 
would be rather an unpleasant thing ; colds are 
built that way. You kept that window open 
rather too long, you know. But I must go and 
finish my gun-cleaning ; I cannot leave that to 
any one. I should advise you to go to bed as 
soon as possible, and take something, in case 
you have got a chill.” 

Oh, honest but near-sighted Tom, whose 
panacea for all ills is to take “ something ” — 
the even-flowing current of whose nature never 
was disturbed by more than a cat’s paw of pas- 


32 ^be lS>cviVe ipla^^rounb* 

sing emotion — you little know of the hidden 
depths and under-currents of some natures, 
which are so far beyond the ordinary touch of 
heart and brain. 

Then, when the dusk had passed into dark- 
ness, and the thunderstorm had passed away, 
the stars gleamed through the blue, and the 
goddess Night reigned over the half of a weary 
world. 


CHAPTER III. 

** WHAT CHANCE HAS BROUGHT YOU HERE ? ” 

It was indeed a glorious morning when Dick 
Travers and Jack Holmes awoke. The sun 
was already up, and looked as if he intended to 
make up for his eclipse of the previous evening 
by shining out a little sooner and fiercer than 
usual. ‘‘ Just wait a little," he seemed to say, 
“ until I get a little farther up, and then I’ll 
roast you a bit ! " For in this land of extremes, 
the sun either sulks altogether and hides him- 
self, or else comes out bold and strong, mean- 
ing business. 

They had slept over-night in the men’s 
quarters, which was a comfortable weather- 
board building attached to the manager’s house, 
whose wife, Mrs. MacMillan, prepared the 
meals of the two or three men generally em- 
ployed on the ranche. MacMillan was already 
up ; he was a dark, wiry-looking man, with a 
pleasant Celtic face ; he might be bordering 
upon forty years of age or so. As our knights 
of the trail were dressing, he sang out to the 
other two men who occupied two of the other 
bunks in the hut. MacMillan seldom betrayed 


34 tTbe BcviVe ipla^grounD* 

any Gaelic accent save under some strong 
emotion ; he had been for the greater part of 
his life in Canada. The two men whom Mac- 
Millan called to got up when called. 

One of them was an active young fellow, 
with a pleasant face, who was called Reynolds, 
and who gave the newcomers a cheery good- 
morning ; but the other was not quite so pleas- 
ant to look upon. He was of that neither-fish 
nor good-red-herring type, which Tom Treden- 
nis had on the previous night characterized as 
“ tough,” or at least whose sole ambition was 
to be considered so. He drawled his speech 
through his nose, was always talking about 
getting “ the drop upon his man,” and as he 
once had been a cowboy in Montana, had gen- 
erally some wonderful experiences to relate, in 
which, of course, he always figured in a more 
or less heroic light. He generally managed to 
insinuate in the course of his conversation that 
he had the reputation of being considered 
bad ” — on the other side.” He would have 
considered he lost in dignity to be seen without 
his heavy leather chaperegos, and his great Mexi- 
can spurs which jangled like cowbells. His 
revolver was nickel-plated, and the handle was 
of mother-of-pearl. He seemed to have a hor- 
ror of a barber, and his general appearance was 
dirty, if not forbidding. 

Waal,” growled that worthy, “ I don’t mind 
gittin* up at a reasonable time ; but dern me if I 
ker about gittin’ up in the middle of the night ! ” 


Cbance bas brought i^ou bereV' 35 


But he had made a slight mistake ; he had 
not given MacMillan sufficient time to leave the 
room. 

I beg your pardon ; did you speak, Billie ? ” 
asked that individual, opening the door a little 
and looking into the room. 

“ I sed right ye er’, guvnor. ' Flip ’ is the 
word ! answered Billie, with apparent alacrity. 

The door was closed, and MacMillan had 
gone. Then Billie’s eyes wandered over the 
new-comers. 

Hilloa, my cocks ! ” he remarked jauntily, 
“ ’pears to me you’re gittin’ a rustle on. I 
guess as much as you’re new to this life. Ten- 
derfoots always is that way.” 

“What did you have the goodness to ob- 
serve } ” inquired Dick, regarding him quietly 
and with that disconcerting eye of his, that 
sometimes had an unpleasant fashion of mak- 
ing the person on whom it was fixed feel rather 
uneasy. 

Billie at first honored him with a surprised 
and savage glare, then over his dirty face 
there spread a wan and sickly smile as he 
answered — 

“ Never mind, pard. I likes my little joke, I 
does. I remarked as how you were an early 
bird, thet’s all.” 

“ Oh ! that was all, Mr. — I didn’t catch your 
name — well, Billie, if you will have it so ; any- 
how Billie is shorter and sounds more friendly. 
My name’s Dick. I thought you said some- 


36 ^be 'JDcviVe JMai^Qtounb* 

thing about ' tenderfoots/ but must have been 
mistaken. However, it’s of no consequence.” 

Here Reynolds turned his back to the com- 
pany, and his shoulders were seen to shake 
suspiciously ; which latter action was not lost 
upon the keen-eyed Billie, who muttered some- 
thing under his breath. 

Then the party adjourned to the stables, and 
after the horses had been looked to they began 
their rough and ready toilets for breakfast. As 
there was only one tin wash-basin in the 
quarters, Dick remarked to the Sage that he 
would go down to the lake. Going out bare- 
headed and in his shirt-sleeves, he shouldered 
his towel, and went down through the drenched 
and resin-scented pines towards a little promon- 
tory on the lake. 

It was indeed a lovely morning ; Nature, 
which had been drooping and withering for 
some weeks, seemed to have taken a fresh lease 
of life, and gone back two or three months into 
the spring again. The very birds seemed jubi- 
lant over the change ; and the rich and varied 
coloring of the great crags on the mountain- 
side shone out clear, vivid, and translucent, like 
the delicate veins on a pebble after it has been 
immersed in the wet. It put Dick, for all the 
world, in mind of a bit of old-country Highland 
scenery ; only the tinting of the whole was 
richer and warmer. Dick looked around him 
admiringly ; he had not thought there was such 
scenery in the Northwest. He felt as if he 


'' Mbat Cbance baa brought ^ou bere?'' 37 


could take a fancy to this place ; but somehow 
— and he could not account for it, he felt as if 
he would rather work for any other than his 
own countrymen. Of course the company he 
had to mingle with might not be exactly con- 
genial ; but then he had not been in a position 
to choose his company these last few years, and 
he still had the Sage, who always amused him. 
After all, he might just be as well here as any- 
where else. 

He performed his ablutions in the lake, and 
was going slowly up the narrow, gravelly beach 
under the dark bank of pines, his eyes fixed on 
the ground before him, when suddenly a shadow 
fell right across his path. Looking up, a 
woman stood right in front of him. 

There are times when mere ejaculations of 
surprise fall ridiculously short of the emotions 
that call them into existence. This lady, in her 
light morning dress and her bare head, stood as 
if turned into stone. Her face was pale as death, 
and her great brown eyes stared at the man 
before her, as if she beheld some visitor from 
the other world, instead of the very ordinary 
figure of a young man in his shirt-sleeves, and 
with a towel loosely flung over his shoulders. 
Her lips parted, but only an indistinct sound 
came from them. 

Travers in his turn took a step backwards, 
and drew a limp hand across his eyes as if the 
sunlight dazzled them. Both stood speechless 
for what seemed to be an interminable age. 


38 Z\K JDcviVe iPla^grounD* 

The man was the first to recover somewhat of 
his composure. 

*‘You!” he managed to stammer. “You! 
Chrissie — I suppose, though, that your proper 
name is Mrs. Tredennis.” 

“ Oh, Dick ! ” she cried almost piteously. 
“ What chance has brought you here — and like 
this ? I thought you were still in India.” 

And now the man had become more fully 
the master of the situation and himself, and 
with an evident effort he kept his demeanor 
subdued and respectful. The shabby, thread- 
bare clothes he wore were forgotten now ; only 
the man and the gentleman asserted them- 
selves. He spoke, and his voice was calm and 
even dignified ; but his eyes betrayed the indig- 
nation that stirred within him. 

“Yes, Chrissie — I beg your pardon, Mrs. 
Tredennis. Things come about strangely, 
don’t they You may be surprised to see me 
here, but I don’t think you need be to see me 
like this.” 

He paused an instant, and drew his breath in 
short, quick gasps ; as he continued to speak 
his indignation got the better of his self-posses- 
sion. 

Then, as if it gave him some relief, he asked 
her if she remembered the story of the past. 
Did she remember how when he had lost his 
patrimony in the Old Country, he had offered 
to free her from her engagement to him ? How 
she had said that the mere loss of money made 


** Mbat Cbance bae brought ^ou bere?'' 39 


no difference, and she would wait until he had 
made a home for her in that far land to which 
he proposed going — she would even go with 
him, if he would let her ? He had gone to 
Ceylon, and had worked for her day and night. 
He had even deprived himself of the necessities 
of life, so that he might all the sooner make a 
home for her. And how at last, after two 
weary years of waiting, when he had gone down 
to Colombo to meet her whom he expected out 
by the first ocean liner to be his wife, he found, 
not her, but a letter, couched in guarded, sym- 
pathetic terms instead, from an old friend of 
his, telling how that the woman who had prom- 
ised to be his wife was already the wife of 
another man. They wrote and told him how 
she had married money. And then — but perhaps 
it did not matter to her what happened — he had 
never cared for money, at least only when he 
was making it for her. He had never gone 
back to that home which he had prepared for 
her, and where smiling native servants were 
waiting to welcome home the mem sahib.” 
He left that beautiful land which had been such 
a terrible mockery to him ; and since then with 
only a love of seeing strange peoples and coun- 
tries to gratify, he had been a wanderer on the 
face of the earth. Of course hard-headed (and 
harder-hearted he might have said) wiseacres 
called him a fool : in all probability he was one, 
but that only harmed himself. True, he had 
not drunk himself to death, or committed moral 


40 ^be WcviVB ©lai^^rounD* 

suicide. But she had destroyed much of his 
faith in women — in such as her wholly — and 
robbed him of all incentive to ambition. And 
then he finished by saying — 

‘‘ Of course I ought to have known, fool that 
I was, that you could never have cared for me. 
If you had been honest with me on one occa- 
sion you might have saved all this — but you 
were not. You had not the moral courage, but 
let me go away first ; and judging me by your 
own narrow soul, thought that I could forget 
you, as easily as you could forget me ! ” 

Oh, stop, Dick, stop, you are unjust to 
me — Her face had grown pale as death ; 
her dry eyes were wild and strange as she 
looked upon him, and her hands were held out 
piteously towards him. But he interrupted 
her. 

Pshaw ! ” he said, sneeringly, ‘‘ your actions 
have proved how much you reverence justice. 
Why make yourself seem more contemptible 
than you really are — if that were possible ? " 

She held out her hands appealingly to him, as 
if to stop him, and as if his words cut her to the 
quick of her woman s nature. It was indeed a 
strange meeting. It was not a pleasant thing 
to see this girl, who was indeed a queen 
amongst women — who had that self-possession 
which only birth, or consciousness of innate 
powers can give, and who possessed intellectual 
and physical gifts which raised her above the 
less favored and more emotional of her sex — 


WiMt Cbance bae brought ^ou bere! 41 


swayed by a tempest of passion like this, and 
the prey of a perturbed miud. The pallor of 
her countenance only seemed to heighten the 
largeness and darkness of her eyes and hair ; 
she looked like a woman from some dark page 
of history supplicating before a stern, unbending 
power, for the life of some one who was near 
and dear to her, At first she had looked upon 
him in a surprised and perplexed way, when he 
had poured out the torrent of an angry and in- 
jured nature upon her. Once or twice it ap- 
peared as if she would break in upon him with 
some word of dissent, or was about ask him 
a question ; but he had always stopped her 
with a gesture of impatience. All at once as 
he proceeded, a light seemed to break in upon 
what was evidently perplexing her, and she 
gradually became calmer. At last, in spite of 
his words of scorn, some settled, high resolve 
seemed to take possession of her, leaving its 
impress on her face and giving her courage. 

“ Better let things remain as they are,” she 
had said despairingly, as if she did not care 
whether he listened to her or not. You may 
learn differently yet ; but it is perhaps better 
that you should think of me as you do.” 

He only caught imperfectly the tenor of her 
broken words ; but he was too much incensed to 
consider their import. He continued bitterly — 

‘‘You may save your words for those who 
will believe them. You need not think that 
any piece of woman’s acting can succeed in 


42 XTbe Devtre iPla^GtounD* 

justifying the wrong you have done. You are 
a woman, but I call you a murderess ; for a 
heartless jilt is nothing else.'’ 

Again she held out her hands with a quick 
impulsive gesture to him as if she would stop 
him ; then dropped them helplessly by her side. 
But still, strangely enough, she never took her 
eyes off his face. And they were truthful, hon- 
est eyes enough, in spite of all that he had said 
about her ; albeit, there was a startled and 
hopeless look in them. She found her voice 
again — 

I may deserve all you say about me,” she 
said, but there is one thing I would ask you 
to bear in mind, and that is, that my husband 
is blameless in this matter. I don’t suppose he 
ever knew I was engaged to any one, far less 
ever heard your name mentioned. You need 
not visit the blame on him.” 

As she looked at him again, her eyes seemed 
to take in his worn, clumsy boots, whose uppers 
seemed about to part company with the soles — 
his dirty cord trousers, on the right knee of 
which there was a great unseemly patch of 
some foreign material— the cheap blue and white 
shirt ; but of more importance than all these 
things, the weary lines of care upon his hand- 
some face. And, strange anomaly, as she 
looked, something very like a great pity dawned 
upon her face and dimmed her eyes, although 
in vain she strove to conceal it. 

He had watched her face keenly, and she 


'' Mbat Gbance baa brought ^ou bere?'' 43 

seemed to recover her self-possession some- 
what as he asked — 

‘‘ Well, are you satisfied ? ” 

She took no notice of his remark, but paused 
irresolute for a moment, and then said — 

“ I have no right to ask, but are you going to 
tell my husband what you have told me, and 
proclaim my worthlessness ? 

“ If he has not found out what you are long 
ago,’' was the quiet reply, “ he will find out soon 
enough without me telling him. I see you 
judge other people by your own ideas of 
revenge.” 

He paused for a minute as if to consider, and 
then continued — 

*• No ; if your husband married you without 
knowing that you were engaged to someone 
else. I shall not tell him. It is sufficient that one 
life should have been made miserable through 
you. ” He did not spare her but went on unmer- 
cifully — But if I were to punish you by that 
measure which you would mete out to other 
people, I would proclaim you for what you are. 
From what I saw of your husband last night I 
took him to be an honest man, at least I bear him 
no grudge, poor dupe that he is ! I engaged to 
stop here with him for a month, but hope he 
will let me go. It will be as well that you and 
I should be apart ; yes, as far as possible. It is 
a strange thing that yesterday, when I stopped 
at these cross trails in the thunderstorm, I was 
haunted by a sense of some impending evil. 


44 ^bc IS^cviVe iPla^^rounD* 

and hesitated to take the trail that led to this 
place.” 

And she, did she remember the weird, sul- 
phurous, thunder-cloud that had seemed to her 
so full of evil portent ? Surely some subtle 
magnetic force had been at work to tell the 
other of a disturbing presence. 

“ You had better not go, Dick ; for really — 
and you need not believe it unless you like — I 
cannot think of you wandering about like this. 
I need not ask you to allow me to do anything 
for you, because I know you would not have it. 
Don’t suppose I mean to insult you by talking 
like this, I am not offering you anything. But 
one thing (and I do not ask it for the love you 
once bore for me, seeing its object was so 
worthless) I would ask of you, and that is not 
to leave this place just yet. Tom, that is, my 
husband ’’ — she spoke these words almost under 
her breath — “ will think it so strange if you go 
so suddenly and without any apparent reason. 
After all, what am I to you now that you 
should allow your movements to be influenced 
by me ? You need see nothing of me.” 

He gazed curiously at her for a minute or 
two as if considering, and answered — 

‘‘ No, I do not see why you should influence 
my movements ; but you are nothing to me 
now, and you shall not influence them. I have 
agreed with your husband to wait until at least 
the ' round-up ’ is over ; I don’t suppose it 
would matter much to him if I left ; but I shall 


^^‘(DGlbat Cbance bae brought ^o\x bcvc't^* 4S 


stay till that event comes off, then go. Until 
then you can enjoy the novel sight of me work- 
ing as your husband s hired man. It will be 
one of those phases of life that you used to be 
so fond of studying. You need not be afraid 
of me saying anything about your past ; for 
this I know, if there is such a thing as a 
Nemesis in this life of ours, you will suffer for 
your past some day." 

Mechanically he inclined his head, and with- 
out bestowing another look upon her, he left 
her standing there, trembling and dazed. Did 
she remember the last time they parted, when 
she had clung to him and wept upon his breast ? 
It seemed as if his words had already come 
true, as if that Nemesis had already overtaken 
her. For she gazed after him with a hopeless 
look in her eyes that was not without a touch 
of wistfulness ; and then, with that smiling 
autumn landscape grown dreary and wintry- 
like to her, she walked slowly towards the dun- 
colored house. 

In spite of herself, it was with a guilty feel- 
ing she approached it, and went in by a back 
way. It appeared to her as if the very servants 
eyed her suspiciously. And when her husband 
heard her footsteps, and called out to her from 
that room sacred to his guns and pipes, she 
did the same by way of answer, without enter- 
ing, in dread lest he should see her — 

'‘Just wait a minute, Tom, until I dress." 

“ Dress ! " he called back ; “ why, you’ve 


46 ttbe 'BcviVe pla^^^rounD^ 

been out for an hour and more ; but I don’t 
wonder, it’s a sin to be indoors on such a morn- 
ing as this. I only wanted to tell you that I 
breakfasted without you. There are some 
blacktail deer upon the bench ; I’m going out 
after them, and won’t be back until evening. 
A Mounted Policeman brought some mail for 
you this morning — you’ll find it on the dining- 
room table.” 

As if for an excuse to avoid meeting him, she 
ran to look at her letters, and opened them 
eagerly ; but, to tell the truth, felt little interest 
in them. She told the servant to remove the 
breakfast things ; said she had a headache and 
could not eat. But there were two in “ West- 
end ” coullee who had no breakfast that morning 
— for that was the name of Tredennis’s ranche. 

Hilloa ! Travers,” said MacMillan as Dick 
approached the manager’s house, “ we’ve had 
breakfast ; but I guess the missus has kept 
some for you. We’ll have a smoke and wait 
for you outside. There’s no particular hurry 
this morning.” 

“ Thanks,” said Dick, “ I ought to have told 
you I intended to do a bit of a starve this morn- 
ing ; feel a little queer — a touch of an old fever. 
I’ll just tell Mrs. MacMillan and be with you in 
a jiffey.” 

Toots, man, you just go in and get a cup of 
strong tea from the wife; it’s none of your 
poisonous green truck ; it’ll do you good.” 

Dick thanked him again and went in. In the 


Mbat Cbance baa brought ^ou berer' 47 


doorway he met the Sage, who eyed him 
keenly. 

“ Hilloa, old man, what’s up ? ” exclaimed 
that individual. “ Seen the ghost of your 
revered uncle, and the spirits of the unre- 
deemed ? Why, what is the matter ? you’re 
looking queer.” 

“ Seen a ghost of the past, Jack, that’s all,” 
replied Dick. Then, becoming conscious that 
he had excited the Sage’s curiosity, he con- 
tinued, “ The fact is, I saw Billie putting on his 
revolver, and his Mexican spurs. I think the 
sight rather upset me. Had no idea we had 
fallen in with such a lawless crowd. By the 
way. Jack, I wonder if we could borrow a shoe- 
maker’s awl and a wax-end ? I fear my Paris- 
ian made boots are in a state of approaching 
dissolution. However, I’m afraid it’s a case of 
putting my trust in Providence until evening : 
shall have to, anyhow.” 

His boots had not given him a thought till 
then. And it was a significant fact that ere he 
had done speaking about them, he must have 
forgotten the fact of his comrade’s presence, for 
he said, as if to himself, “ I wonder what pos- 
sessed her to ask me to stay ? Can she have no 
sense of shame } ” 


CHAPTER IV. 


HER HUSBAND. 

Mrs. Tredennis sat nearly all the forenoon 
in one place, close to the open window, where 
she could see the far-stretching vista of rolling 
prairie, on which the heated air-waves danced, 
and played all manner of hobgoblin tricks with 
the physical features of that lonely landscape. 
Here, there was a cliff with a bold front and a 
fringe of scrub growing atop of it, where she 
knew there was nothing but a level piece of 
prairie. And there, was a lawn-like stretch of 
smoothest grass, where she knew the prairie 
was bare and broken. The sun beat fiercely 
down, as it does late in the fall in these parts ; 
and had it not been for the thunderstorm of the 
day before, it might have been unpleasantly 
sultry. For once Mrs. Tredennis took no inter- 
est in the face of Nature. Hers was an artist’s 
temperament, and in art lay her refuge when 
there was a jarring in the wheels of her exist- 
ence. There were those who had predicted a 
great future for her ; but somehow she would 
not tread in the beaten and conventional paths 
of legitimate art. She was always seeking after 


1ber 1bu6banC)* 


49 


that which was uncommon in Nature, which in 
fact almost bordered upon the unreal. Her 
landscapes suggested an infinite eeriness and 
sense of solitude, which would strike and haunt 
the beholder long after they had been looked 
upon. When she gave these landscapes life, 
she gave them a fitting life ; her figures sug- 
gested a tragedy obscure, but none the less sub- 
tle and pathetic. Perhaps there were no artists 
she more resembled in her choice of subjects 
than Vedder and Church, differing as they do 
in some points. Although the critics admitted 
the beauty and truthfulness of treatment in her 
work, still, because she was a “ departure '' they 
would not recognize her. Abuse must precede 
fame, and the founding of a school : when the 
art critics denounce, the curiosity of the public 
is aroused, and if there is anything in it, some 
one with more moral courage and discrimina- 
tion than the others will point it out. Then, 
straightway, the whole world will say, “We 
thought there was something in it, though we 
could not exactly say what it was ’’ — and then 
— applause. 

And still the lonely figure by the window sat 
and gazed over the ever- changing mirage on 
the'prairie. Some letters lay open on the table 
beside her ; but it was not these she was think- 
ing about ; she might have been one of those 
solitary figures from one of her own paintings, 
so suggestive was she of some deep-rooted 
trouble. For now she found herself, perhaps. 


so Zbc IDcviVs iPla^grounO* 

in the most humiliating position in which a 
woman can find herself — despised by the man 
v/hom she had loved, and for whom yet, per- 
haps, the old passion was not quite extinct. 
She had thrown this man over in a moment of 
pique, and when she was, perhaps, perfectly 
justified in doing so, provided that what she 
had heard of him were true — were true ? — that 
was exactly where the trouble lay. But her 
conduct had been guided by those whom she 
had been taught from her childhood to look up 
to as unimpeachable and inviolable ; and now 
the traditions of her you .h had received a severe 
shock. She realized that undoubtedly she had 
been deceived by those who ought to have 
shielded her from deceit. She had been a creat- 
ure of impulses, and now they bid fair to wreck 
her future happiness. The words of him who 
had reproached her, and the man himself as he 
stood before her, had carried conviction home 
to her. She had sometimes thought with the 
spirit of a highminded girl, before she had mar- 
ried Tredennis, that if in the years to come 
should ever chance throw this man across her 
path, how she would wither him with her scOrn 
and contempt, and make him feel — if he were 
capable of feeling — the stings of remorse. 
After she had renounced him, and had, on the 
return of cooler judgment, come to the conclu- 
sion that it was the height of folly to condemn 
herself to live a solitary, joyless life in a house- 
hold where she was anything but happy, she 


Iber *lbu0banb* 


SI 

banished him from her thoughts — at least so 
far as she could. She would show him of 
what little account she considered his shallow 
love ; and in a moment of pique she had con- 
sented to marry. From a worldly point of 
view she had no cause to regret her marriage ; 
she occupied an assured position that many na- 
tures as free from mercenary considerations as 
hers, would have considered a prize amongst a 
thousand. To her husband she strove to be a 
good wife and true ; if she did not love him, she 
at least respected him, and tried to bring her- 
self to love him. 

But now the tables were turned with a ven- 
geance, and she herself occupied the place of an 
object of contempt and scorn, which she had 
imagined Dick Travers would one day occupy. 
She found that instead of being the wrong- 
doer he was the wronged, and a powerful re- 
vulsion of feeling was the result. And now a 
sickening fear of what the consequences must 
be if she gave way to those feelings, presented 
itself to her. 

Mrs. Tredennis did not dream of being dis- 
loyal to her husband even in thought ; but it 
was significant that already she had almost be- 
gun to pity that husband in her heart : before 
whom in the future she must necessarily play a 
double part. 

But hers was no weak nature ; for while her 
conscience had upbraided her when she had 
looked upon the world-worn face of the man she 


52 Zbc Bevire iPlaissrounD^ 

had once loved, a resolve, that could only have 
arisen from a mind of rare truthfulness and cour- 
age, suggested itself to her. She would let this 
man believe that she was all that he said she was. 
She would suffer the mental humiliation of being 
considered shallow, mercenary, and worse, in 
order that no greater evil might arise. For, if 
she had chosen to speak — she had been on the 
brink of it more than once in her interview 
with him — then, instead of upbraiding her, he 
would have pitied her ; one kind word from 
him, and she, with her impulsive nature, would 
have been for the time the slave of her emotions, 
and the mischief would have been done. Her 
second thoughts had been to send him away 
from her, and to appeal to his sense of the fit- 
ness of things : that it were better now that they 
could not be too far apart. But then Mrs. Tre- 
dennis had noticed his careworn face, his 
shabby clothes, and his general appearance 
that of one who finds it hard to get along in 
the world — so different from what he once had 
been. Her great, woman’s pity for him over- 
powered all other considerations, and she sac- 
rificed her feelings in order that perhaps she 
might further his worldly well-being. Perhaps 
she had some vague idea, that if he came to see 
her in the prosaic and commonplace of the 
British matron, and came in contact with her 
now and again, he might come to see that she 
was a much more commonplace being than he 
imagined. Possibly, even, he might come to 


1ber 1bu6ban&* 


S3 


rejoice in his free existence, and to think that 
after all the loss of her was not a thing to be so 
very much bemoaned. With an utter absence 
of any vanity, Mrs. Tredennis never considered 
for a minute what effect her presence might 
have upon him. In such affairs, strangely 
enough, it is the most important factors that 
are lost sight of. In any case, she would strive 
to do her duty : how far she would succeed re- 
mained to be seen. She would not fly from the 
danger ; she thought that in boldly facing and 
combating it lay the surest defence of both. 
She would take up her neglected Art again 
and find in it her principal distraction. 

Mrs. Tredennis rose, and opening aside door 
entered a long, well-lit room, which was built 
out from the main building. A large table lit- 
tered with sketches stood at one end of the 
room. A small Broadwood piano in a plain 
oak case, that was beautiful in its simplicity, 
stood in one corner ; an easel with an unfinished 
sketch on it stood in another. A few choice 
proofs of engravings were on the walls in plain 
Oxford frames; a few portfolios of engravings 
and a pile of books and magazines stood in an- 
other corner. Altogether it was a thoroughly 
business-like studio, and suggested work rather 
than a mere retreat to gratify a dilettante adorn- 
ment. 

Mrs. Tredennis approached the unfinished 
sketch upon the easel and looked curiously 
upon it. It was a purely fanciful sketch, and 


54 ^Tbe lS>cviVe ©la^^rounb^ 

represented a woman with a strikingly beauti- 
ful face, upon a low, sandy shore, looking out 
upon a weary, shoaling sea, upon whose surface 
nothing was visible but a wandering sea-gull, 
whose presence only accentuated the loneliness 
of the scene. And in the face of the woman 
there was the look of one who had waited long ; 
there was an apathetic, troubled brooding — a 
consciousness as of hoping for what is hopeless. 
Perhaps there was some subtle affinity between 
the condition of her own mind and that which 
this sketch represented : which she did not alto- 
gether care to admit to herself in her present 
condition, and which was not exactly in har- 
mony with her new resolves. 

“This will not do,” Mrs. Tredennis said half 
aloud. “ This will not do at all. The principal 
aim of Art ought to be to represent the beautiful 
and true, in a manner which will elevate and 
render happier the greater portion of humanity. 
There is something morbid in this picture which 
is positively unwholesome, and which is not 
calculated to leave a pleasant impression.” She 
felt half inclined to take a brush that lay handy 
and smear the surface of this sketch ; but she 
felt loth to destroy what had been the outcome 
of her own creation. She threw a light cloth 
over it instead, and left the room. Then for 
the next few hours she went about the house, 
talked to the servants and superintended various 
household duties, and was surprised to find 
what a relief this busying herself with matter-of- 


1ber IbuebanD* 


55 


fact details was to her. It was only as the 
dusk crept on that she sat down by the open 
French window to take a few minutes’ rest. 
She had not sat long when she heard a quick, 
firm footstep outside, and in another minute her 
husband strode into the room. 

'' Dear me ! in the dark as usual,” he re- 
marked, brusquely. How you can sit moping 
in the gloom puzzles me.” Then he continued, 
as if he were conscious that perhaps the tone of 
his greeting were not exactly that which the oc- 
casion called for : However, I suppose you’ve 

either a good deal of the owl in your composi- 
tion ; or else — you know what the Scriptures say 
— * They love the darkness rather than the light, 
because their works are evil.’ ” 

She had started guiltily at the sound of his 
voice, and perhaps it was as well for her that 
the room was in darkness. Even his conclud- 
ing sentence seemed to have a peculiar signifi- 
cance for her. It was the old case of the cap 
fitting. What a number of caps we poor 
mortals don in our time ! 

Tom Tredennis laughed not unpleasantly, 
and continued rapidly : “ However, Chrissie, 
I’m wasting precious time. Get me something 
to eat right away. You’ve waited dinner for 
me. Oh, bother ! I’ve shot a couple of black- 
tail deer up Stony Creek, about six miles from 
here ; and if I don’t get back, the wolves or per- 
haps a bear will have made a meal of them. 
Parade the banquet. In the meanwhile I’ll go, 


56 ©be BcviV6 IPlai^^rounD* 

engage one of our newly found pedestrian 
friends, get a pack-horse, and after dinner go 
back to where I left the deer, and bring them 
here to-night. The moon is about full, I 
think.’^ 

All right, Tom ; " and she hurried away to 
hurry up ” the dinner for the hungry sports- 
man ; leaving that individual to grope his way 
to the gun-room in the dark, where he speedily 
struck a light : first refreshing himself with a 
modicum of mountain-dew, and filling his cigar- 
case. He shoved some explosive cartridges 
into his belt, and made his way back to the 
sitting-room again. 

A small table for two had been laid ; but, 
considered in the light of a dinner, it was a 
unique affair. For, by the time Mrs. Treden- 
nis had finished her soup, her husband had 
called for, and finished, his more substantial 
second course ; and when Mrs. Tredennis had 
placed a small cutlet on her plate, Tom rose 
from his seat with the intimation that pud- 
ding was a bad thing to work on, and she 
really must not mind him leaving her. ” 

Mrs. Tredennis found that her appetite had 
gone. She had tried to draw her husband into 
conversation, by telling him that she had re- 
ceived a letter that morning from the Dalton 
girls — whom he had admired so much down in 
Montreal. Who, after having gone through to 
the coast, and stopping off at Banff, in the 
Rockies, would stop off and spend a month or 


1bet 1bu6banD< 


57 


two with them ; and how that, as his cousin, 
Ned, was coming, they would have a lively 
household. But her husband only replied ab- 
sently (as if he had been asked for an opinion 
on a totally different subject) to the effect that 
he thought explosive bullets would be the best 
thing to take. You see, one might meet with a 
bear, which animal was on the increase in certain 
parts of the Cypress Hills (since they were not 
hunted so much by the breeds and Indians as 
in the old days), and he wanted to get a skin 
before they went back to England.” 

When reminded that it was not a bear, but 
the Dalton girls he was likely to meet before 
long, he answered, “ Yes, yes, the Dalton girls, 
very pretty girls, second or forty-third cousins 
.of my own, or something of that sort. And 
Ned, splendid fellow ! that is to say, a splendid 
shot : for I don’t think he is good for anything 
else. We can have some fun together in the 
direction of the Milk River Ridge, after the an- 
telope. Don’t sit up for me, Chrissie : it will be 
late before I’m back. Good-night, lass.” Tom 
had Scotch blood in his veins, and “ lass ” was 
one of his pet words. He used it when some- 
thing happened to please him ; and just then 
the chance of perhaps seeing a bear suggested 
itself to him. Mrs. Tredennis called after him — 

‘'Good-night, Tom, and take care of your- 
self.’* 

Tom went over to MacMillan’s house, where 
that worthy couple and the men had just 


58 Zbc 'S>c\fiVe pla^grounD* 

finished supper. The redoubtable Billie, and 
Reynolds had gone that day to a neighboring 
horse ranche, some forty miles east, to look 
after some stray horses, and would not be back 
that night; so only Dick Travers and Jack 
Holmes, known as “ the Sage,” were left be- 
hind. Tom entered the kitchen with a pleasant 
“good-evening,” and sat down for a minute. 

“ I hardly like to ask you,” he said, address- 
ing Dick and the Sage, “ as doubtless you’ve 
been hard at it all day ; but I should like if one 
of you would do me a favor — you can lie off all 
day to-morrow. I’ve shot two blacktail on the 
edge of the bush up a coullee, about six miles 
from here, and if I don’t get them home to- 
night, there’s a chance that the wolves or even 
a bear may get away with them. Would one 
of you mind coming with me, and we’ll put a 
pack-saddle on one of the horses and fetch 
them home ; it’s nearly full moon, and I know 
the coullee well ? ” 

“ I just want a good walk,” said Dick, spring- 
ing to his feet. 

The Sage was on his feet the same instant. 
“ I’m not going to be left out of this,” he said 
turning to Tredennis. “ You see Dick here 
wants some one to look after him. He’s young 
and giddy, and might get fooling with a bear if 
he met one — some fancied affinity or something 
of that sort, you see — which might prove awk- 
ward.” 

“Come on, then,” laughed their employer, 


Iber t>u6banD. 


59 

** and look after your friend ; the more the mer- 
rier/' 

They went out to the stable and put a pack- 
saddle on one of the quiet horses : and the Sage 
leading him, and Tom Tredennis shouldering 
his Winchester, and looking round for Dick to 
come up alongside, they set out, and walked 
southwards down the Medicine-lodge Coullee. 

It was a lovely night. As they threaded 
their way down the valley, the sombre, pine- 
clad coullees were clearly defined, and had an 
air of profundity and grandeur that they hardly 
possessed in the day-time. The great, bare 
peak of Eagle-Butte towered aloft in solemn 
state, and seemed in the weird moonlight like 
some giant sentinel watching the western flank 
of these everlasting hills. The silence in these 
regions is profound enough in the day-time ; 
but at night it lays one under a spell. So com- 
pletely and deadly still does the world seem, 
that the watcher is fain to struggle with himself 
as with a nightmare, and cry out as if to free 
himself from its burden. It would seem as if 
he had suddenly been placed on the face of a 
dead planet ; and even the sound of his own 
voice frightens him, it sounds so strange and 
unreal. But on this particular night there 
seemed to be an unusually large number of the 
birds of the night abroad ; every now and again 
a ghostly grey shadow would sweep past 
them, and be lost in the gloom again. Then 
the short, harsh screech of some night hawk 


6o XLbc WcviVe iPlai^^rounD* 

would be heard, and a peculiar deep whizzing 
note, as it dropped suddenly to earth, cutting 
the air with its razor-like wing. 

‘‘ It’s a glorious night,” said Tom Tredennis, 
suddenly, “ but I don’t think I would care to 
live here always ; in fact, not at all, if it were 
not for the sport. Fifteen or twenty years ago, 
when there was lots of big game in the country 
— buffalo by the thousand, and antelope in 
droves — it must have been very different.” 

“ Yes,” broke in the Sage, “ I should fancy it 
must have been very different ; and then there 
was always the chance of a pleasurable little bit 
of excitement in the shape of getting your scalp- 
lock lifted by some frolicsome Blood Indian, or 
innocent Sioux. No, thank you, those so-called 
‘ good old days ’ are all very well in the 
abstract. As Byron says, ‘ All times when old 
are good : ’ he seemed to understand those 
things.” 

Tredennis laughed. 

“ There’s a good deal in what you say,” he 
remarked ; “ but, as the Mounted Police can 
tell you, such a state of things is not beyond 
the bounds of possibility yet. You must under- 
stand, that from where we are now, you can 
travel south through an uninhabited country for 
scores and scores of miles. You can travel 
west to Bad Water Lake, the Paghogh-kee of 
the Indians, across the Milk River Ridge to the 
Sweet Grass Hills, and again towards the Bear 
Paw Mountains in Montana, and not meet with 


Det DusbanD. 


6i 


a solitary living thing — that is to say, a white 
man. In point of fact there are still prowling 
bands of Bloods or Siouxs in these broken 
lands, which, if they stumbled across you alone, 
would only too readily relieve you of your 
scalp-lock. There has been more than one 
cow-boy laid up by the heels on this very same 
ranche through traveling alone; and I don’t 
think that a year passes without several head of 
cattle being killed by these wandering gentry. 
When I first came here I was very much 
amused by our friend, Billie, always carrying 
his revolver with him ; but I have changed 
since then, and I know I wouldn’t do it myself. 
And, by the way, I shouldn’t advise you fellows 
to do it, either : I can lend you revolvers.” 

And now they trudged on, down the dry 
sandy bed of the creek, and their conversation 
turned on sport. Travers, who in his wander- 
ings in various back parts of the earth had al- 
ways gratified, so far as it lay in his power, the 
instinctive love of sport in his British nature, 
began to forget the episode of the morning, and 
to whom he was speaking. Being a pleasant 
narrator, he related various strange experiences 
of his : from trailing cannibal blacks, wanted 
for murder, with the Black-trackers in North- 
ern Queensland, to alligator-shooting in Cey- 
lon. 

“ By Jove ! ” Tredennis remarked, “you’re a 
lucky dog. I often envy you rolling-stones 
who knock round, here to-day, and there to- 


62 ^be lS>cviVe plai^^rounb* 

morrow; never staying long enough in one 
place to out-wear the novelty ; seeing all climes 
and people, and meeting with all sorts of ad- 
ventures and experiences 

Je-rus-alem, Dick!” interrupted the Sage, 
at this point of Tredennis’s dissertation, and 
stopping short with an anxious look upon his 
face, “ there goes my only pair of suspenders. 
Have you got such a thing as a piece of string 
and a knife about you? You see, Mr. 
Tredennis,” he remarked, pleasantly, as these 
requisite articles were handed to him, “ this is 
just one of these pleasant little experiences you 
refer to ; rather prosaic, but none the less of a 
momentous nature — as it happens I’ve only one 
pair, and don’t possess a belt.” 

Dick laughed silently; he knew that the 
Sage, with all his philosophy, was not above re- 
sorting to a ruse like this, to express his dis- 
sent. 

Tredennis recommended him to use a belt in 
future : it was the better thing to ride in, and 
continued — 

Now, so far as I am concerned myself, if 
Providence had not laid me under certain obli- 
gations, endowing me with certain monies when 
I was a helpless infant, and which I know if I 
lived to the age of Methuselah I could never earn 
for myself, I should have been a rolling-stone. 
When I have talked with fellows — gentlemen 
and scholars — who have had their wits sharp- 
ened, and their ideas widened by contact with 


Ibei: IbusbanD^ 


63 

their fellow-men on the Australian diggings, 
and the African diamond fields, I have become 
alive to the fact of how meagre and circum- 
scribed are the lives of us stay-at-homes after 
all. Gaining information through the medium 
of books, and profiting by it through experi- 
ence, are two very different things. Hilloa, 
Travers ! what’s the matter ? ” Dick was limp- 
ing alongside him. That gentleman laughed 
in a low and embarrassed way. 

“ I’m sorry,” he said, “ and I don’t want to 
interrupt or delay you, especially when you are 
paying we poor rolling-stones such compli- 
ments ; but I’m just about to profit by one of 
those little experiences you referred to. I am 
afraid the sole of my right boot is about to part 
company with the uppers. Hold on ; don’t do 
that.” 

Tredennis had unbuckled his leather hat- 
band, which it is the custom to wear round that 
hat known as the “ cow-boy,” a species of 
broad-rimmed felt. 

You hold hard, and put your foot up on 
that rock,” Tredennis said, “ it is a question of 
ways and means,” and in a trice he had encir- 
cled the refractory sole and uppers with it, 
slipped his pocket-handkerchief through it, 
took a turn round Dick’s ankle to hold it in 
position, and knotted it securely in front, as if 
it were the most matter-of-fact thing in the 
world. 

“You see, Travers, Tve been * there before,’ ” 


64 XTbe BcviVe iPlai^QtounD* 

he said easily. When you go back to the 
ranche, MacMillan, who has a lot of boots in 
the store, will be able to fit you. In the mean- 
time let’s have a cigar I’ve got some beauties 
here — prime Indians.” 

They lit up and went on again. 

Then Travers let his comrade do the talking. 
All that morning a strange conflict of emotions 
had been warring within him. That bitter 
spirit of cynicism and distrust of human nature, 
and woman’s nature in particular, which had for 
the last few years been warping his better na- 
ture, had found that morning a culmination, in 
his denunciation of the woman who had been the 
cause of this change in him. He had been 
brought up to a life of ease and indolence ; which 
was not perhaps quite in accordance with one of 
his active temperament. But the life had its in- 
fluence upon him, and had to a certain extent 
unfitted him for a worldly calling. He had been 
of a generous and impulsive nature, only valuing 
money for what it represented, and the good to 
which he was able to apply it. There was 
nothing that was sordid or mean in his com- 
position : unlike many young men of his set he 
had realized the truth of the saying, that it 
was more blessed to give than to receive. 
Indeed, it had often been a matter of specula- 
tion among his friends, how that one who 
seemed to take life so easily, and was so fond 
of the good things of this life, could deny him- 
self some pleasure, to gratify what they con- 


Iber 1bu6banD* 


65 


sidered some quixotic idea of charity. Perhaps 
those who were most intimate with him, knew 
least about the many quiet and^unobtrusive acts 
of goodness which sprung from a generous- 
hearted nature, and a mind that had more 
depth and fore-thought in it than is generally 
accredited to youth. When he suddenly lost 
his ample means, it was a hard blow for one 
in his position. But that part of his nature 
which had lain dormant by the force of cir- 
cumstances in him asserted itself, and he had 
jumped at the offer of a good appointment 
abroad, and the chance of resuscitating his 
worldly prospects. He had offered to release 
the girl he was engaged to from her engage- 
ment to him when the crash came ; but she had 
said she would wait until he had made a home 
for her, in that distant land which he was going 
to. She was the only daughter of a deceased 
Indian officer, who, on his death, with charac- 
teristic improvidence, had left her depending 
on the charity of an uncle and aunt : who, with 
a large family of girls of their own, could not 
but look upon the beautiful but penniless girl as 
simply a piece of goods, that must be put upon 
the market as soon as possible. Travers had 
gone abroad, and by hard work and self-denial 
had obtained a position which was at least as 
good as one in his altered circumstances could 
reasonably expect. And then came her heart- 
less treatment of him ; no wonder such a sud- 
den revulsion of feeling wrought a change in 


66 ^be 'BcviVe iplai^grounD* 

him. The house he had taken such pains to 
prepare for her, and every detail of which had 
been subservient to one idea — that of being 
pleasing to her — was now hateful in his sight. 
Perhaps there is a limit to all human endur- 
ance, and probably he did brood a little too 
much over his hard luck. Anyhow, he left 
the island of Ceylon behind him. He had 
wandered to various parts of the East Indies, 
the South Sea Islands, and New Zealand : en- 
gaging in all sorts of hazardous and unprofit- 
able expeditions, and had lapsed from one stage 
of hard-upness to another. All the time get- 
ting more used to the life and feeling his change 
of position less. He had ceased to correspond 
with his friends, who doubtless would have 
helped him, if he had allowed them to ; but 
ambition was dead in him. The one guiding 
star of his life, which alone could have kept him 
in the beaten paths of respectability, and devel-i 
oped all that was good in him, had set. He had 
become what he now was, a man of no particu- 
lar vices, but in whom that nomadic spirit, 
more or less latent in all our natures, was 
hurrying along on its aimless current. There 
had been a time when to think of this man — 
Tredennis — now walking beside him, had been 
to rouse an evil spirit within him. He had 
looked upon him as one who had stolen from 
him the one thing he had valued most in life. 
Then, in his calmer moments, when he came 
to consider that it was the woman, and not the 


1 ber 1bu0banD< 


67 

man who was the transgressor. When he 
thought that one who had ruthlessly broken 
faith with him, and betrayed him, could not 
possibly keep it with one who was so much 
older, and whose tastes were so dissimilar to 
hers — whom, indeed, she had only married for 
the sake of position, curiously enough his 
sentiments had changed to almost that of pity. 
For, he considered, she must of necessity be 
false to this man in her heart. A remarkable 
chain of circumstances had thrown Tredennis 
and him together; and though at first he 
experienced a strange shrinking from him, still 
he felt there was a subtle bond of union 
between them. The little he had seen of this 
man was prepossessing; for Tredennis, with 
all his tautology and brusqueness, was a gentle- 
man, and one who was quick to recognize and 
respect that quality in others (no matter what 
their position) whom circumstances had thrown 
in his way. Already, with that sense of justice 
which neither worldly wrongs nor misfortunes 
can eradicate from the Anglo-Saxon nature, and 
which has blood for its ground-work, Dick 
Travers felt grateful to him, and felt drawn to 
the man whom he had often thought he must 
necessarily hate. 

‘'Now, here we are at Stony Creek,'" said 
Tredennis ; “ another mile, and we are at the 
place where I shot the deer." 


CHAPTER V. 


BRUIN AT BAY. 

It was a wildly irregular rent in the great 
pine-clad plateau or bench, that rose some 
thousand feet above the level of the valley. 
The rugged sides bristled with great pine-trees, 
and the bed of the water-course — a roaring 
torrent in the spring, and a dry gravel bed in 
the fall — rose gradually between overhanging 
rocks, and great gloomy arches of rank and 
tangled undergrowth. Tredennis led the way 
in silence, his two companions following. The 
first-named individual had put several explosive 
cartridges into the magazine of his Winches- 
ter ; for, as he had said, the coullee had always 
borne a name for the large cinnamon bear, 
which a number of hunters classify with the 
dangerous grizzly. It was a ravine which it 
required much caution to ascend in the day- 
time, and even then, as Travers thought, if he 
wanted to look for bear, it should have been 
from some vantage ground in the rocks above, 
and not in the bed of the stream that he would 
have looked for them. And now in the decep- 
tive moonlight it was laborious traveling. It 


69 


JBruin at 

was up, up, up, in the mystic light and shadow. 
And now, the valley they had left behind them 
was lost in a thin, pale mist, and still that dark 
breach in front of them seemed to rise sheer 
up, and pierce right into the heart of the moun- 
tain. There was a slight moaning in the upper 
reaches amongst the pines, and it grew chilly. 
Travers in his thin thread -bare coat was shiver- 
ing, and the Sage was strangely silent. The 
wild and eerie nature of their surroundings 
seemed to affect their spirits. 

At last the ravine took a sudden turn, and 
they found themselves in a large, shallow and 
circular hollow, fringed with a dark, dense belt 
of pine-trees. 

“ Now, stop here with the pack-horse,” 
Tredennis whispered to Holmes. I left the 
deer about a couple of hundred yards or so 
over there. You’d better not come, Travers. 
I was a fool not to make you fetch a rifle with 
you. I generally think about a thing when it 
is too late.” And he went stealthily up the 
creek bottom. 

The little breath of air that stirred came 
right down the gully, so there was no fear of 
game scenting them should there be any in the 
vicinity. Dick could not resist the temptation 
of following close on Tredennis, in the shadow. 
Besides, he knew — having often stalked bear 
before — that this brute, though possessed of a 
cunning that is unsurpassed in the animal 
kingdom, will at times when it is engaged in 


70 ZTbe lS>cviVe iplai^atounb* 

grubbing up roots or in devouring its prey, 
neither appear to see nor hear the approach of 
an enemy, until that enemy is close upon it. 
So much so in fact have some hunters remarked 
this, that they have ventured to ascribe a 
peculiarity of vision to it, and to assert that it is 
the sense of smell on which the bear depends, 
to inform itself of the presence of an enemy. 
In reality the bear is quick to hear. 

They crawled on about another hundred 
yards or so, and then the banks of the creek 
got so low that one could have looked over 
them. Tredennis raised himself cautiously, 
and looked over the bank. In another instant 
he ducked his head, and looked back at Dick. 
His face had paled slightly, and his eyes 
sparkled with suppressed excitement. Still he 
was as cool as a cucumber ; it was evident to 
Dick, that this man at least was not troubled 
with ‘^buckfever.” 

Get back,” he said, for goodness’ sake ! 
There’s a big beggar not eighty yards off. He 
has collared one of the deer, and is carrying it 
away. As soon as you hear me fire, get up a 
tree, or anywhere out of the road ; they’re dan- 
gerous when they’re wounded. I’ll crawl up 
out of this on to the bank, and try to get a bead 
on him.” 

'' Then don’t forget to aim low : in moon- 
light there’s always a tendency to fire high — 
try behind the ear, or well behind the left shoul- 
der if you can ; and try to get a couple of shots 
in before he sees you. Good luck.” 


71 


:fi3riun at :fiSa^» 

And Dick, who felt as much interest in the 
issue as Tredennis did himself, watched the 
latter crawl on all fours out of sight, and held 
his breath in suspense. The idea of taking to 
a tree never once entered his head. 

It was a curious turn in the wheel of fate ; 
and if any one had told him a couple of days 
before, that in less than that time, he would be 
whispering such instructions into the ear of 
this one man above all others, he would have 
laughed with scornful incredulity. And now 
as he lay waiting for the sharp ping of this 
man s rifle, so undreamt-of and strange were 
the surroundings, such an air of unreality 
seemed to encompass them, and there had 
been such a crowding of unexpected events 
into the last twenty-four hours, that he almost 
expected to wake up any minute and to find 
that he had only been having a remarkably 
vivid dream. 

Dick shivered in the chill moonlight. The 
slight breeze that whispered among the pines 
had a moost uncanny sound. The moonlight 
was intense ; threw every object exposed to its 
glare into strong relief, and accentuated the 
shadows. These, again, assumed grotesque, 
phantasmal shapes, and gave one the idea that 
they were the genii of the mountain, who were 
lurking there with sinister designs. A little 
bird awoke among the boughs overhead, and, 
under the impression that it had overslept it- 
self, and that it was broad daylight, broke into a 
shrill treble of song. How sharply and coldly 


72 Zbc WcviVe iPlaisatounO^ 

the stars away up there in the dark blue 
gleamed. How spectral and far-off the oppo- 
site bank of the coullee appeared to be. Was 
Tredennis never going to shoot ? It seemed an 
age since he left. Dick, in spite of his instruc- 
tions, crawled a few paces forwards and looked 
over the bank. 

At first he could see nothing but the dark en- 
circling fringe of pines, then he looked cau- 
tiously a little more to the right, and there he 
saw something that quickened his pulses and 
made him draw his breath a little more quickly. 
A huge dark shape, that seemed to have a 
hump over its shoulders and another upon its 
hindquarters, was busily engaged dragging a 
prostrate body along the ground. It did not 
seem to be in a hurry, but would occasionally 
relinquish its hold, and marching round its 
property would sniff all about with its nose 
close to the ground. Dick saw that it was a 
huge cinnamon bear. He looked a little more 
to the right, and he could see another dark ob- 
ject crawling slowly and cautiously towards it. 
It was Tredennis, making sure of his game by 
trying to get as close to it as possible, without 
being seen. Dick lost sight of him behind a 
fallen pine. It was deadly still now. Sud- 
denly a stick cracked ominously behind that 
prostrate pine ; the bear lifted its head, stood 
stock-still for an instant, and seemed to sniff 
the air. 

Then a blaze of lurid light, a deafening re- 


73 


JSrutn at 

port, and a thousand rattling, pealing echoes 
rolled down the coullee, and broke the brooding 
stillness in a startling and hideous fashion. 
The bear ran a few steps forwards, and looked 
over its shoulder. If hit at all, it carried the 
bullet as only a bear can carry one. Another 
thundering report, and it dropped upon its 
knees. Dick, in spite of his instructions, ran 
towards Tredennis, who rose to his feet, and 
stepped over the fallen pine, at the same time 
pumping another cartridge into the barrel of 
his Winchester. The bear suddenly recovered 
itself, and facing about espied its enemy, ran a 
few paces towards him with remarkable swift- 
ness, and then raised itself up on its hind legs. 

Then someone gasped — “ In the name of all 
that is merciful, what is the matter with Tre- 
dennis’s rifle ? 

With a horrible sinking at his heart, Dick 
saw him trying to force the lever back into its 
place ; but evidently the cartridge had got 
jammed in the carriage. These were terrible 
moments ; the huge brute came towards him 
with great, ungainly strides — Tredennis moving 
slowly backwards before it. Dick shouted to 
attract the attention of the bear, but it only 
turned its head slightly, paused for a second, 
and advanced again. Horror of horrors, it 
would strike him down with one of its great 
lever-like paws in another second ! Suddenly, 
the hunter shot headlong and backwards across 
the fallen pine, and his rifle flew from his hand. 


74 ^be 'BcviVe iPla^^vounD* 

Dick never could recollect clearly afterwards, 
how he did it ; and though the whole incident 
could not have occupied more than a few sec- 
onds of time, it seemed to the principals in it to 
last for an eternity. To have recked of any 
danger, or to have delayed a second, would 
have been certain death for one or other of 
them. He sprang forward, caught up the rifle, 
gave the cartridge a sharp knock downwards 
with the side of his hand, released the cart- 
ridge, and closed the lever with his left hand. 
Without having time to take deliberate aim, he 
discharged its contents under the shoulder of 
the huge brute, in the neighborhood of the 
heart. It tottered for a minute unsteadily upon 
its legs. What a wicked intelligence in these 
angry little eyes that glared in the moonlight ! 
To pump another cartridge up and fire again 
was the work of an instant, and the bear fell 
forwards heavily, an inert mass, only by a few 
inches missing Tredennis, who lay sprawling 
on his back. 

Guess,” as our friends across the lines 
would say, it was a ‘ tight fit,' ” remarked Dick, 
as he sat down on the prostrate pine, and drew 
his hand across his forehead as if to clear his 
faculties ; at the same time watching with not 
a little amusement Tredennis disengage him- 
self from the pine boughs, and scramble in con- 
sternation to his feet. He breathed freely now, 
and the encounter had seemed to dispel the air 
of unreality, that before had seemed to envelop 


75 


ffiruin at 

everything. The excitement had done him 
good ; the reaction from his former morbid 
state of mind had set in, and he felt a different 
man. 

In another minute, Holmes, with a face that 
looked ghastly in the moonlight, and perched 
on the top of the pack-horse, cantered up. It 
was perilous ground to canter over ; but it was 
the bear, and not the ground the Sage was 
thinking of just then. However, it was the 
other way about with the horse ; but then the 
Sage could not be expected to provide for every 
contingency. What followed savored of broad 
farce. 

“Look out. Jack !” yelled Dick. But Jack 
was too late ; for with that wild terror which 
all horses have of a bear, either alive or dead — 
even the slightest scent of one will suffice — the 
scared animal plunged violently. It reared up 
on its hind legs, and the Sage was hanging on 
by the mane. Again it recovered its perpen- 
dicular ; but in another second. Holmes was 
sent flying headlong right into the arms of Tre- 
dennis, and bowled that gentleman over like a 
nine-pin, back among the pine-boughs. 

It was too much for Dick, who roared again 
at the ludicrous spectacle which the two pre- 
sented, as they disentangled themselves, and 
rose ruefully to their feet. 

“ The deuce take you, man ! '' said Treden- 
nis to the sorely surprised youth, and feeling 
himself all over, “You needn’t fly into my arms 


76 ®be Devira iplai^^rouno^ 

like that. If you’re beside yourself with joy 
over my recent deliverance you should learn to 
control your emotions. You’ve squashed my 
cigar-case as flat as a pancake, not to speak of 
the damage you’ve done to my interior econ- 
omy.” 

But he laughed good-naturedly at the same 
time, and seemed rather to have enjoyed the 
mishap than otherwise — at least, so far as it 
was possible to enjoy an accident of the kind. 

“ Really, sir, I’m exceedingly sorry ” be- 

gan the Sage, but Tredennis cut him short. 

Oh ! nonsense. Holmes ; a little variety enter- 
tainment of this nature is rather refreshing, 
after what was nearly turning out to be a trag- 
edy. How’s your poor head ? ” 

This little incident served to distract the 
minds of the hunters from their late danger ; 
and as Dick had caught the pack-horse again, 
and had taken it round to the windward side of 
the dead bear, they turned their attention to it. 

But Tredennis had evidently something to 
say to Dick. 

‘‘I say, Travers,” he said, ‘‘I don’t suppose 
you like speechifying any more than I do ; but 
I want you to know that I am sensible of what 
your pluck has done for me. I only hope that 
in the future you will reckon me as a friend, 
and not forget to call upon me as such, should 
you ever have occasion to. I don’t think it’s 
necessary to say anything more at present.” 

Tredennis resembled the sailor’s parrot, in 


JSrutn at 77 

that if he did not say much, he thought a good 
deal. 

“ Pshaw ! said Dick, '' you are over-rating 
this affair.” He could not for the life of him 
see that he had done anything out of the com- 
mon. “ When you brought him down on his 
knees that time, you did all any man could be 
expected to do ; you can blame your Winches- 
ter for the rest. Anyhow, one might bury a 
dozen of bullets in their fat and not hurt them. 
It was simply lucky that I should have had 
some experience with rifles. I knew I could 
fix it in a jiffey. But we must bleed this chap. 
I should say there is close on four hundred 
pounds of good beef-steak on his ribs anyhow.” 

It was a splendid specimen of the cinnamon 
bear. As they had no means of taking home 
the carcase, they decided to pack back the 
blacktail, and to come back next day with pro- 
per means of conveying it. And now, as a 
slight frost had set in, they lost no time in plac- 
ing the blacktail on the back of the pack-horse, 
and in the best of spirits started out upon their 
homeward march. 


CHAPTER VI. 

‘‘I don’t think she’s happy with him.” 

The chill and wan-eyed morning came at 
last, scattering the furtive, mis-shapen shadows 
that lurked in sinister places, and causing the 
silvery frost to sparkle on the prairie. It was 
the first frost of the season, and Travers 
shivered in his old coat as he approached the 
ranche. They took the deer to a large under- 
ground cellar near the house, and hung them 
up. Jack Holmes was leading the horse off to 
the stable, and Dick was going with him 
when Tredennis stopped him. 

“ Hold hard, Travers, you’re not going away 
like that. You must come in and have a little 
Scotch medicine ; you’re chilled I can see. I 
say. Holmes, just shove that horse in the stable 
and hurry up.” 

I’d rather you’d excuse me,” began Dick, 
“ for though I’m as fond of drink as the next 
man generally, still I don’t feel like one now — ” 
Nonsense!” interrupted Tredennis; “the 
occasion permits of no excuse: it would be con- 
trary to all precedent. What is more,” he con- 
tinued, perhaps partly divining the scruples of 


'' 1 Don't Zbirik obe's IDapp^/' 79 

his ejnployiCy '' there's no necessity to disturb 
any one. Come round this way.” 

To have refused under the circumstances, 
would have been to disappoint the good-natured 
fellow ; and as he himself said, “ would have 
been contrary to all precedent on such an aus- 
picious occasion.” He led the way around the 
front of the house ; his unwilling guest feeling 
unaccountably ill at ease. But he felt more 
ill at ease in another minute, when they dis- 
covered a light burning in that room, which was 
unique among other rooms in the Northwest in 
that it possessed a French window. Near the 
light, which was wan and strange in the more 
powerful daylight, and at a table, her head 
resting on one hand, and gazing as it were into 
space, sat a woman ; and in her, Tredennis 
recognized his wife. He, however, betrayed no 
surprise ; only an impatient ejaculation escaped 
him. So oblivious did the figure seem to every- 
thing around, and so immovable, that for a 
minute Dick thought she must be asleep. A 
book, back upwards, lay alongside her. 

“The idea!” Tredennis exclaimed, ^‘she 
must have sat up all night. Who would have 
thought women were so silly. This way, 
Travers.” 

This individual had stood stock-still at the 
sight of the lonely figure ; and now, with a rush, 
the returning flood of conflicting emotions that 
had so exercised him the day before, and which, 
the excitement of the past night had for the 


8o ^be 'BcviVe plai^grounb* 

time being caused him to forget, now once 
more took possession of him. But to have 
drawn back, would only have been to excite 
remark. Moreover, deliberate flight would not 
have been in accordance with that vantage 
ground of moral superiority and resolute im- 
passiveness which he intended to adopt as his 
rS/e, if by any chance she would be thrown in 
his way. They passed in by the front door, 
and were already well within the wide passage 
when, hearing them, she started up, and run- 
ning to the door met them. 

Oh, Tom, I am so glad you are back ” 

she began ; then the words died upon her lips. 
For a second there was a scared and strange 
look in her eyes as she met those of Dick’s. 
But the latter only regarded her with the 
stoniest irrecognition that he could muster. 
Tredennis spoke. 

“ Why, Chrissie, you look as if you had been 
dreaming ; what on earth possessed you to sit 
up all night ? I have been out dozens of times 
before, and you didn’t bother about me. But, 
my dear, here’s some one I want to introduce 
you to ; I told you about him before. My wife — 
Mr. Travers. Had it not been for Mr. Travers 
you would have been a full-fledged widow 
this morning, Chrissie ; but I’ll tell you all about 
it some other time ; in the meantime we're 
perishing with cold.’’ 

“ Mr. Tredennis will have it that I rendered 
him some service,” Dick said, bowing coldly. 


** H Don't tTblnft ebe'a 1bapp^/' 8i 

though courteously, as if he were addressing 
the veriest stranger ; but when he comes to 
think over it, he will find that it was nothing 
more than a very ordinary hunting incident 
indeed.” 

She had looked up into his face for a moment 
in a quick, pleased way — that way in which a 
woman can express her thoughts so much 
better than in words. But she checked herself 
in another second, and in a manner that unac- 
countably annoyed her husband, said simply : 

“ Then I hope you will not suffer from your 
night’s experience, Mr Travers. I am afraid 
my husband has been victimizing you, but 
trust he will be sufficiently grateful, however, 
for what you have done. If you want any hot 
water, Tom, I’ll fetch it from the kitchen. I 
thought you would be coming home cold and 
requiring some, so kept a fire up ; one can’t 
expect servants to do these things, no matter 
how willing they may be.” 

And she went off to return with a small 
brass kettle of steaming water, which she 
handed to him. Her manner was cool and 
collected enough by this time ; and there was 
not the slightest trace of any embarrassment, 
which the presence of Travers might have oc- 
casioned her. Probably she overdid her part, 
for the very brusqueness of manner which she 
assumed, and the coolness with which she 
treated her husband’s guest, were too pro- 
nounced not to be remarked by honest Tom, 


82 XTbe Bevtrs ©la^^rounD* 

who looked bewildered, ran his hand through 
his hair, and almost committed himself by giv- 
ing vent to his feelings in a low whistle. She 
could not hide the strained look in her eyes 
from Dick, however, who regarded her curiously. 
But in a few minutes the feelings of Tredennis 
were much relieved, and he had occasion to 
think he must have magnified his wife’s appar- 
ent discourtesy to his guest ; for Holmes, having 
got rid of his horse, and his subsequent behavior 
changed the aspect of affairs. Unlike his com- 
panion, there was no reason why he should 
deny himself much-needed refreshment. So, 
hurrying round to the front of the house, 
to avoid if possible being behind time, he en- 
tered the porch, and was fingering the handle 
of the front door, when, suddenly recollecting 
that it was hardly the manner in which to enter 
the house of his employer, he paused. Just 
then the door opened, and a lady stood there 
who looked inquiringly at him. She evidently 
realized the situation, and at the sight of his 
puzzled gaze allowed a smile to dawn upon her 
face, and a low laugh to ripple from her lips. 
For a second the lively fancy of the Sage ran 
riot. Truly, he had a glimpse of a handsome, 
thoroughbred English girl ; and his thoughts 
ran back to some Belgravian drawing-room. 
Perhaps it was to see any lady at all — here, in 
the land of the Philistines — that took him so 
much aback. 

'' I beg your pardon, I think I have been 


Don't trwnft 0be'0 1 bappi 2 /^ 83 


rather precipitate ; but I ” and the Sage, for 

at least once in his life, wandered off into the 
unhappy hunting grounds of obscure speech. 
But Mrs. Tredennis came to his relief. 

Oh, come in, Mr. Holmes ; for I know who 
you are. You must think me very rude ; but 
I’ve a vagrant sort of fancy, and your appear- 
ance brought a very amusing incident to my 
recollection.” 

“ Savoring of vagrancy, I should say,” sug- 
gested the Sage, now somewhat reassured, 

and suggestive of the cloaks and umbrellas — 
Yes, that did dawn upon me, and no doubt lent 
a certain appearance of guilt to a not exactly 
respectable exterior.” 

"‘Well, anyhow, appearances were against 
you,” she admitted laughingly. 

She had not, as in the case of his companion, 
scanned in a second, and noted the threadbare 
appearance of his tout ensemble. But she had 
recognized intuitively that she was speaking to 
one who was her equal by birth ; and perhaps 
she could not have done otherwise, under the 
circumstances, than have placed him upon an 
equal footing, and dispensed with convention- 
ality. 

In the adjoining room, Tredennis had paused 
in the act of warming a couple of glasses, when 
he heard their voices in the passage, and invol- 
untarily looked at Dick, with just a trace of 
anxiety on his face ; for he had been annoyed 
and unable to account for his wife’s reception of 


84 ^be 'BcviVB iPlai^^rounb* 

Travers. But now he was relieved that she at 
least welcomed “ the other one ” as he termed 
Holmes. He had just come to the conclusion, 
that it was because he had not made enough 
fuss about her having sat up all night for him, 
and that to retaliate she had shown her disap- 
proval of his early entertainment of guests — 
poor Tom ! In his satisfaction he shouted out 
loud enough for them to hear — 

“ Now then, Holmes, that isn’t right you 
know — taking advantage of my being engaged. 
You’ve either got to come and take your medi- 
cine, or stay where you are and do without.” 

“ Then I’ll do without, if you have no objec- 
tions,” answered the Sage, promptly, and 
looking at Mrs. Tredennis, who smiling, paused 
as if to listen. 

'‘That is just where the shoe pinches,” 
Tredinnis called back. “ I have very strong 
objections ; your presence is urgently required 
here.” And there was a mock entreaty in his 
voice. 

“ Much he cares, anyhow ! ” sprang to the 
lips of Mrs. Tredennis : and although these 
words were evidently intended to be taken in 
jest, they ill accorded with the expression on 
her face just then. It was evident that she 
regretted the speech ; for with but a sorry 
attempt at a smile she said — 

" Perhaps after all, Mr. Holmes, you’d better 
go. I am obliged to you for the compliment 
you have paid me. Perhaps we will try you 


'' ir don't Z\)ink 0be'0 Ibappi^/' 85 


some other time, when the exigencies of the 
case don’t call for such an exercise of self-denial. 
Good-morning.’* 

She bowed smilingly and passed into the next 
room. 

As the Sage watched her pass, a quiet, dry 
smile dwelt upon his face for an instant. But 
he took care to alter its expression as he entered 
the gun-room, where he was welcomed cheerily 
by Tredennis. 

When Dick and Holmes passed out of the 
house and made their way to MacMillan’s, the 
former, as was his wont, was silent and pre- 
occupied ; but the Sage was evidently turning 
over something in his mind. Dick looked at 
him inquiringly, and the Sage immediately 
began to talk. Probably the former, with his 
knowledge of the world, and the Sage in partic- 
ular, had in his mind a certain little psycholog- 
ical dissertation which the youth had treated 
him to a couple of days before, and was now 
playing a part from contradictory motives. 

By Jove, Dick, is she not a surprise ? ” said 
the youthful admirer of the fair sex. *‘You 
might have knocked me down with a feather, 
as they say, when I saw her. She is one of 
the best looking women I’ve seen on this con- 
tinent : or any other for the matter of that ! ” 

“I suppose you allude to Mrs. Tredennis.^” 
Dick queried, wearily. 

** Why, of course, who else could I mean ? 
I never met such a chap as you, Dick, I don’t 


86 ^be 'BcviVe ipla^grounb* 

believe there ever has been a woman, or ever 
will be one, who will arouse in you the faintest 
suspicion of passing interest. ” 

“ You think so ? was the absent rejoinder. 

You’ve just proved it ! ” promptly returned 
the Sage. “ Why, man, she would charm the 
heart of a stone. She is as lively as a girl of 
sixteen ; I could hardly believe at first that she 
was a married woman, and married to such an 
old sober-sides as Tredennis. But I can’t quite 

understand ” and here the Sage broke off 

shortly, knit his brows, looked serious for a 
minute, and continued a little more slowly — 

There’s a something about her, though, I 
don’t quite understand. I say, Dick,” — and at 
this point he came to a dead stop and looked 
his companion gravely in the face — I don’t 
think she’s happy with him. She said some- 
thing to me in the hall that will only bear one 
construction — she came out with it in an un- 
guarded moment, and only confirmed my sus- 
picions by trying to patch it up.” 

“ Pshaw, man, you’re trying to work up a 
romance, and make a mountain out of a mole- 
hill ! ” 

** No, Dick, by the father of the cock that 
crew to Peter, I am not ! ” was the deliberate 
reply. “ Because your heart’s like a stone, or 
because you’ve parted with it to a barmaid, or 
some girl in a tobacconist’s shop, long ago, and 
you’re a few paltry years older than I am, you 
think you know better. But with all due def- 


** 1[ Don't tlbinlft 6be'0 1bappi2*'^ 87 

erence to your grey hairs, I believe I understand 
women better than you. Tm afraid there’s a 
screw loose somewhere in that marriage. That 
woman has made a mistake, and is finding it 
out. Tredennis is one of those real good fel- 
lows, as they call them ; but I don’t think he’s 
the sort of man to please a woman like her. 
She is one of those women who have a natural 
hankering after sympathy ; and she doesn’t get 
any from him. I wish I were in his shoes.” 

' The greatest mistake of all,’ ” began Dick, 
in a dry, pedantic tone, “ ‘ is when a chap gets 
spooney on another man’s wife.’ Jack,” he 
said, with a mock seriousness in his voice, ** I 
believe you’re one of those philosophers who 
don’t always practice what they preach. You’d 
better take care lest it turn out to be a case of 
‘ physician, cure thyself.’ ” 

And still the worldly-wise words of the cal- 
low youth, had no particular significance in 
Dick’s own eyes just then. He thought that 
safety lay in the future, by reason of his ex- 
perience in the past. But this is a common 
mistake — holding the future cheaply. 


CHAPTER VII. 


THE ROUND-UP. 

The round-up was in full swing. To Dick 
Travers, a round-up was nothing new, but to 
Jack Holmes, it was very much so indeed. In 
fact, in some parts of the country, more espe- 
cially across the International Boundary line, he 
would have had, as some of “ the boys ” ex- 
pressed it, a rather tough time ” of it, on ac- 
count of his verdancy. But those who com- 
posed this particular round-up were mostly 
a few of the neighboring ranchers themselves, 
whose runs lay away to the north, and a few 
hired hands. The latter were mostly of a non- 
descript type, and had a very pronounced ten- 
dency to fringed chaperegos, great jangling 
Mexican spurs, fancy revolvers, and practical 
jokes. But they were, generally speaking, of a 
good-natured and accommodating type, and had 
nothing particularly bad in their compositions. 
But to have ascribed these virtues openly to 
them, would have been to have mortally in- 
sulted them. In point of fact, when any subtle 
flatterer meant to pay them a compliment, he 
insinuated that they were ** wild and woolly," 


IRounDs^up* 89 

and if there was a point to be gained by so do- 
ing, it was as good as won. Perhaps, there 
has been no hero of modern fiction more mis- 
represented than the genuine cow-boy. To 
the average reader of the six-penny novel, 
he is a species of walking arsenal and circus- 
rider knocked into one ; who rides his horse 
into bar-rooms and over bars ; who shoots on 
the slightest provocation, and whose aim is so 
miraculous that at sixty yards he can shoot the 
eye right out of a mosquito, if he happens to 
see one winking at him. Now with strict re- 
gard to the truth, he is a law-abiding citizen 
enough ; and when not out for a holiday, is a 
painstaking, steady, and inoffensive individual ; 
often an apt student of Nature, and a reader 
when he gets the chance. It is your sham, 
nondescript, outside article, who has neither 
partiality nor aptitude for a cow-boy's work, 
but who under cover of an honest calling, 
makes it an excuse for a nomadic, shiftless life, 
a little card-sharping, and a little horse -steal- 
ing : who has usurped a place in fiction that 
his betters should occupy. 

After all, a cow-boy’s life exercises a spell, 
which — whether it is on the prairies and pam- 
pas of the west, the foot-hills of the Rockies, 
or on the great cattle runs of the Australian 
bush — when once acquired, can never be 
shaken off. There is a poem called “ The 
Sick Stockrider,” by Adam Lindsay Gordon, 
the Australian poet— an Englishman by birth. 


90 Zbc WcviVe iPla^atounD* 

however — that has haunted at least one life in 
these varied climes. Here is a verse or two of 
it : — 

“ Twas merry in the glowing morn among the 
gleaming grass, 

To wander as we’ve wandered many a mile, 
And blow the cool tobacco cloud, and watch the 
white wreaths pass, 

Sitting loosely in the saddle all the while. 

“’Twas merry in the backwoods, when we ’spied 
the station roofs, 

To wheel the wild scrub cattle at the yard, 
With a running fire of stockwhips and a fiery run of 
hoofs ; 

Oh 1 the hardest day was never then too 
hard 1 ” 

This passion for a wandering open-air ex- 
istence, the free untrammelled life of the bush, 
the prairie, or the mountain-side, is at once the 
soul and the bane of one’s existence. There is, 
of course, pleasure — such as it is — in the ac- 
cumulation of riches. But at the close of life, 
whether is it better to say with the man whose 
soul has not been bartered away for the gold 
‘‘ that satisfieth not,” and who has lived a clean 
life : I have seen God’s own world, and know 
how beautiful it is. I have lived every hour of 
my life, and can thank Him with a full heart for 
it ” ; or with the man who has heaped up treas- 
ures in vain : “ If I had sought knowledge as I 
have sought gold, then would I not now be 
groping in darkness ” ? 


91 


®be 1Rounb:sup, 

But why ask ? 

The round-up party consisted of about 
twenty hands all told. Every day the cook’s 
wagon would make a stage of from eight to ten 
miles, and these stages marked the camps. In 
the morning the party would start out in dif- 
ferent directions, to meet later on at one given 
point, driving the cattle with them that they had 
picked up on the way, and which had strayed 
away during the summer. The weather was 
exhilarating, and the spirits of the men good. 
Tredennis, who had suddenly become pos- 
sessed of an idea to render himself generally 
useful, enjoyed the fun as much as any one ; 
and after the day’s work was done, could spin a 
yarn with the best of them round the camp fire. 
As if Nature had compensated him for his lack 
of experience and frequent blunders during the 
day, the Sage,” Jack Holmes, resolved him- 
self into a bright and shining light in the even- 
ing ; and as he could sing a capital song, and 
had an inexhaustible fund of anecdote, he 
furthermore retrieved the character he had won 
for being generally useless. In one point at 
least he had shown his wisdom, and that was in 
the capability of taking a joke good-naturedly 
at his own expense. The first morning they 
were out, when the cow-boys and breeds were 
doing a little “ showing off,” lassooing one an- 
other when in full gallop, throwing their hats 
on the ground and picking them up, and in- 
dulging in various other pleasantries peculiar to 


92 ^be Devtrs ©la^grounb* 

cow-boys, Billie made a dead set at Holmes. 
Billie had been watching the Sage cantering 
past on a rather spirited broncho — he was at 
least an irreproachable rider — when suddenly, 
the former divining that his chance for dis- 
tinguishing himself had now come, swung his 
rope round his head, and whiz it went through 
the air, the noose settling down over the un- 
suspecting Sage’s shoulders, and tightening 
round his waist. In another second there was 
a riderless horse, and the rider sat down 
violently on the bare ground. However, he 
laughed along with the rest of them, although 
he felt in anything but a laughing humor, and 
took with good grace Billie’s delicate hint that 

Tender-foots had to larn.” 

But the words were hardly out of Billie’s 
mouth when a most unlooked-for accident oc- 
curred. A quick, experienced hand, unobserved, 
placed a piece of cactus somewhere in the 
neighborhood of the “ flash ” broncho’s tail that 
Billie was riding, when — whiz — bang — bump — 
bump — bump ! and Billie’s broncho seemed to 
have gone mad, and bucked like one possessed. 
Its head was between its legs. Its back was 
arched like a rainbow, and every buck was 
higher than another. Perhaps Billie was taken 
by surprise, or perhaps the broncho was sur- 
prised — however, it is more than likely that 
both were ; and as the broncho could not get 
rid of the cactus, it got rid of Billie, who, 
although a splendid rider, dismounted in rather 


93 


Zbc 1RounD:sup^ 

an undignified fashion. Perhaps of the two 
falls, Billie’s was the least dignified. When the 
latter gentleman discovered that no bones were 
broken, he slowly raised himself from the 
ground, and glaring round in an ugly fashion 
(he somehow could not enter into the spirit of 
the joke) finally fixed his gaze upon Dick 
Travers, and inquired in a threatening manner — 
Who the (plutonic) done that ? ” 

Dick spoke as he came towards him with a 
friendly show of assisting him to get up, and 
with a smile that was of a most comprehensive 
character. 

“I did, my hearty; and didn’t I do it well? 
You see, as a ‘tender-foot ’ I’m doing my best 
to follow your advice and ‘ larn.’ ” 

What Billie muttered was drowned in the 
roars of laughter that went up from the crowd. 
However, he treated with undignified silence 
the hope Dick expressed, to the effect that he 
was not hurt ; and his mount having been 
caught by the Sage in the meantime, he mounted 
it sullenly, and in a few minutes more the crowd 
dispersed. 

Away they went along the brown hill-sides, 
where the prairie chickens strutted about in the 
warm sunshine ; over the high, breezy benches, 
where they drank in the pure, bracing ozone, 
and all the surrounding country lay like a great 
colored map ahead and around them. There, 
showing dimly away to the south was the purp- 
ling outline of the Bear-Paw Mountains in 


94 ^be 'BcviVe iplai^^rounb^ 

Montana; away to the southwest, were the 
three conical peaks of the Sweet Grass Hills ; 
and, like pieces of broken mirror on a shadow- 
flecked field of grey and green, were Wild 
Horse Lake and Pagh-ogh-kee. Then, down 
again into the great grassy coullees and the 
stony, dried-up creeks. Now, under great, 
brown, threatening cut-banks, that spoke of a 
time when these rugged channels ran high and 
swiftly with a raging, tawny-crested flood. And 
now again, they rode alongside a beaver- 
haunted, still, deep pool, fringed and half-hidden 
by a greenery of wolf-willow and silver-birch. 
And then, perhaps, when they wondered where 
the cattle could possibly have got to — the signs 
of whose presence were all around — under a 
group of shady, rugged maples or cotton- wood 
trees they would sight a group of wondering 
cattle, which would stand and gaze at them an 
instant with a mild but startled air, and then 
with tails raised high in the air, and a snort of 
fear, would stampede away through beds of 
crackling reeds, and stunted undergrowth. 
Then for an exciting gallop to head them off, 
and steady them down, over butte and coullee, 
over flint-strewn water-courses that rang again 
with the clattering din of hoofs, and over banks 
of waving sage-brush, with one eye to the 
unsteady band of cattle, and another to the 
treacherous badger-hole. But the broncho of 
the prairie is not like its brother born in the 
stable ; for should by chance it stumble over a 
series of those treacherous man-traps, it will 


95 


^be 1Rounb:sup* 

recover itself in an instant, and seldom comes 
to grief, whereas, the other is almost certain to 
break its neck. Then the excitement of the 
cutting out,” and the roping ; the handling of 
the red-hot and hissing branding irons, and the 
exhibitions of much skill. 

One loses sight of the dust, the heat, and the 
general discomfort of such occasions, and only^ 
remembers the zest one had in life in those 
days, and the merry jests. Then when the 
day’s work is done, and all are lying smoking 
round the camp-fire, the “ tall ” yarns and 
jokes, that sound quainter and fresher than the 
wildest stretches of fiction ; and then the 
sweeter rest, for sweet is the sleep of the 
wearied. Than the dark blue heavens above, 
lit up by millions of gleaming stars, what 
grander canopy could a king have ? 

There is a couple of verses from a poem, 
which is not by Tennyson, and runs thus : — 

O happy, happy days when we tied our shoes 
with string, 

And braced our figures slender. 

With one green-hide suspender ; 

And laughed like anything, 

O happy, happy days when we tied our shoes with 
string ! 

‘‘We rose up in the morning with lyrics on our 
lips. 

We hadn’t any money ; 

But what we said was funny. 

And full of quaintest quips. 

We rose up in the morning with lyrics on our lips.” 


96 ^be 'BcviVe 

After all, it is in the commonplace that 
pathos lies. Prosperity may furnish vales of 
Arcady in which nightingales sing, and where 
swains and love-sick maidens trip it to the 
time-honored piping of oaten reeds, and the 
quaint conceits of the pastoral ; but the truer 
poetry of existence derives its pathos from 
retrospection, and ruined lives. 

“You’ve caught the prairie-fever,” said Dick 
Travers to Jack Holmes, when they had been 
out for a few days. 

“ So mote it be,” commented the Sage. 
“ Sorry I didn’t catch it sooner.” 

“ I sometimes wish,” Dick went on musingly, 
“ that I had been a Red Indian and lived in the 
old days when the prairies were covered with 
buffalo, and one had nothing to do but knock 
round, and fight, or hunt. I believe I could 
have found existence very bearable. One thing 
is certain, 1 would not have found quite so 
much to sicken me in life as I have done.” 

“ Pshaw, man ! ” interrupted Tredennis, who 
was riding alongside them, and had overheard 
Dick’s unwonted speech, “ to hear you talk one 
would imagine that you had been badly crossed 
in love, or something of that sort. I once 
read of a chap in a poem called ‘ Locksley 
Hall,’ who twaddled on just like you, till he 
came to his senses. At the same time I 
wouldn’t mind going back ten years of my life 
— I think if I had my choice as to my future life, 
were the going-back part of it accomplished, 


97 


Zbc 1RounD:sup^ 

rd take my Winchester and a supply of car- 
tridges, and lead a wandering life on these 
prairies, in preference to the course I have 
taken. By Jove, look at that band of antelope 
disappearing over the ridge yonder ! 

Dick looked up suddenly, and regarded him 
for a moment with a startled expression on his 
face — he did not even look at the band of 
antelope disappearing over the ridge. This, 
then, was the state of mind of the man who 
had supplanted him in that, the loss of which 
had made it seem to him, as if life were hardly 
worth living : who had been the cause of all 
the trouble. If she could only know the senti- 
ments of this man — and he had more than a 
suspicion that she did know it — would she not 
realize that this was a sort of Nemesis upon 
her for the treacherous part she had played.^ 
After all, there were great retributive laws at 
work in all human affairs. 

Tredennis watched the antelope disappear 
with wistful eyes, and continued the conversa- 
tion. 

“ ril tell you what we’ll do, Travers ; after 
the round-up is over, and before the winter sets 
in, we’ll organize a hunting-party. My cousin 
Ned is coming out — he’s a capital shot — and a 
couple of girls are coming to pay us a visit ; I 
believe they’re at the ranche by this time, and 
I was wondering how we should amuse them. 
Now I’ve just hit upon it. We will take a 
couple of wagons, tents, and other necessary 


98 ^be 'BcviVe iPla^^rounb* 

paraphernalia, and go right into the wilderness 
and sojourn for a while in that land where no 
man lives, and have a high old time. We can 
shoot and hunt to our heart’s content, perhaps 
run across a bear in Many Berries Creek. I 
know where there is a piece of queer scenery 
down there : those red and white terraces and 
pillars of clay, that would interest Mrs. Tre- 
dennis — they are weird and dismal-looking 
enough to suit her out-of-the-way choice of 
subjects. It will be late enough in the season, 
and cold enough at nights, but it will be a 
glorious trip.” 

Holmes is the very man you want for a 
thing of the kind,” said Dick, hurriedly ; “ but 
if you go, I would rather you left me at the 
ranche with MacMillan; he can ill afford to 
lose one of his hands before the winter sets in, 
far less two.’’ 

** Nonsense, man ! I’ve got to have a couple 
of men with me, anyhow ; and I’ll bring Briggs 
along, who is an excellent cook. We can do 
all the other work — what little there is of it — 
equally amongst us. I don’t care about taking 
Billie with us : he’s apt to forget himself before 
ladies, and his conversation is not edifying. In 
a party such as I propose, of course, it will be 
a pic-nicking pure and simple. Besides, there 
will be two good-looking girls to look after ; 
and you may understand the nature of the duty 
that will be expected of you,” and Tom smiled 
knowingly. 


®be 1RounDs>up* 9d 

Dick did not somehow like the idea ; but he 
made no further demur. He felt grateful to the 
man who so delicately led him to understand, 
that it was not as a hired servant simply that he 
looked upon him, but as a guest and an equal. 

Holmes could hardly restrain his delight at 
the prospect of such a trip, and declared that 
to drive a wagon, and to render himself gener- 
ally useful on such an expedition, would be a 
positive pleasure. 

On the fifth day out, a remarkable phenome- 
non began to assert itself. About noon, a thin 
bluish mist came slowly drifting along from the 
west ; at first so shadowy and immaterial it 
was hardly noticed ; but before night distant 
objects could only be seen dimly through it ; 
and the three peaks of the Sweet Grass Hills, 
were hidden from view. 

A prairie fire, by all that is unlucky ! ” said 
MacMillan. 

Ere bed-time a strange thing was visible ; 
which, of course, to those who had been for any 
length of time in the country, was nothing 
strange. Long after sunset there was a blood- 
red glow in the sky which seemed to flicker 
portentously: now, suddenly spreading and 
growing vividly lurid ; then gradually dying 
away again, until some wandering gust of wind 
fanned it into a greater glare than ever. . 

The ranchers watched the reflection in the 
sky with growing anxiety. 

“ It’s thirty miles off, if it’s a foot,” said Mac- 


loo XTbe WcviVB ff>lai^grounD^ 

Millan, “ and it has to cross the Milk River 
Ridge, not to mention a dozen of other obsta- 
cles ; so if the wind keeps down it’s all right ; 
but if the wind comes on to blow from the 
west, we’ll have to get a rustle on. The grass 
is as dry as flax, and will go just as quickly.” 

Next day the smoke was denser than on the 
day preceding, and the party became anxious. 
In the morning, MacMillan went out in the 
direction of the fire ; and by mid-day he was 
back again with a jaded horse. He called Tre- 
dennis aside. 

It’s nearer than I thought, sir,” he said ; 
we’ll have to quit the round-up and fight the 
fire. The best thing we can do is to stop it — 
that’s to say if we can — between the Milk River 
Ridge and Bad Water Lake, and north again 
from that. It’s not for me to remind you,” he 
continued, rather ruefully, that your hay near 
the ranche is insufficiently protected, and that if 
the fire once crossed Big Plume Creek, I 
wouldn’t answer for the buildings and the 
timber. That strip should have been burned 
along the creek, even if it spoiled the look of 
the place for a while. I’m afraid there’s a risk 
of a much bigger strip being burned. I should 
advise you to send some one right away to do 
it, and look after the place, in case the fire gets 
away from us. Your man, Briggs, can give 
whoever you send a hand.” 

By Jove, MacMillan, I believe you’re right. 
It was Mrs. Tredennis who stopped the burn- 


XL\)C 1RounD:sup* loi 

ing of that fire-break. This comes of letting 
women interfere/' he muttered, irritably. 

A council of war was held, and it was de- 
cided hastily that they should ride westward; 
fight the fire between given points, and en- 
deavor to save the country. Tredennis ap- 
proached Dick. 

“ Travers,” he said, '' I want you to go right 
back to the ranche : it’s a good thirty-mile ride, 
and it’s late in the afternoon ; but I know if any 
one can get there in time it is you. You know 
what has to be done : turn out Briggs and burn 
a fire-break along the creek. MacMillan says 
if the fire gets across the creek, it will jump the 
breaks round the stacks in the Medicine Lodge 
Coullee for a certainty. Don’t spare your 
horse. By Gad, the wind’s getting up, as I’m a 
living sinner ! ” 

Tredennis did not stop to hear what Travers 
had to say, but galloped away after the crowd 
of horsemen that cantered off towards the west 
to out-manoeuvre the angry element. Travers 
roused himself, strapped his old coat in front of 
him on the saddle, and, turning his horse’s head 
northward, gave it its head. 

“ It is fate, or my usual luck,” he muttered 
moodily. “ Of all men he must send me to 
that woman, whom I ought to hate, for the evil 
she has wrought me ; but for whom yet there is 
some of the old pain that is not quite dead. I 
am miserable when I am near her ; and yet I 
have not the moral courage to get out of this. 


102 


Zbc WcviVe pla^^roun^* 

I am a coward if ever there was one ; otherwise 
I would not be here. I told her she was noth- 
ing to me, but I lied. I wonder if hell holds 
many such hearts as mine ? ” 

Already, he was living in that uncertain 
future. 


CHAPTER VIII. 


AGAINST TIME AND FIRE. 

Dick looked around : in the thin smoke he 
smelt fire, and noticed that little cindrous par- 
ticles were falling round him, like the first few 
flakes of snow that herald a blizzard. Only 
these tiny specks were grey, or of an ominous 
blackness. 

Ss-sh ! and a light breeze began to hurry the 
little black specks along faster and faster, and 
to fan his cheek. For the time being, it 
brought him to a more reasonable frame of 
mind. 

“ It's going to blow a hurricane," he said, as 
if to himself. ‘‘It’s fetching the fire with it, 
and the smoke is growing denser to the north. 
MacMillan said the fire had to cross the Milk 
River Ridge ; but he did not reckon upon an- 
other one traveling up from the west; and 
that’s what it is. I suppose it’s a race between 
me and the fire. Now then, Barney, show me 
what mettle a broncho is made of.’’ 

The grass that year had been luxuriant and 
rank all spring and summer, and the fall had 
been scorching and dry ; and now the whole 


104 ^be Bevire ipla^^rounb^ 

country was as dry as a piece of timber, and as 
inflammable as gunpowder. 

For two hundred miles and more there was 
nothing but a vast unbroken ocean of prairie, 
and little to check the force of the great de- 
stroying element ; which, gathering strength 
and velocity as it came, created a whirlwind in 
its wake. The first signs of its approach were 
vast, pillar-like clouds of smoke, that rolled up 
from the horizon, and darkened the face of the 
sun as with a pall. The wild animals fled in 
terror before it ; and birds of prey hovered on 
its extreme edge reaping a bloody harvest. 

And now with an ominous sighing the wind 
freshened, and far off — it might be twenty miles 
and more — it gradually assumed the sound as 
of the distant ocean beating upon a rocky 
coast. 

Some people talk of the silence that usually 
accompanies elemental disturbances on the 
prairie ; but the law of association has a good 
deal to do with this supposition. Listen in- 
tently, and you will become conscious of a 
muffled roaring in your ears. If there are no 
obstacles to create distinctive noises, the 
elements cannot be silent any more than the 
combustion of gases in the atmosphere can fail 
to produce thunder. 

Away to the north a gushet-like wedge of 
flame traveled with appalling rapidity, right in 
the direction in which Dick was traveling. He 
knew that so far as his own personal safety was 


Bgainet Zlmc anD $itc. 105 

concerned there was no particular danger ; for 
he could, if he saw fit, set fire to the grass on 
the lee side of him ; then stand safely on the 
burnt patch, until the great front of sweeping 
flame had passed on either side. Or else he 
could choose a spot where the grass was 
shorter than usual, and gallop his horse right 
through the flames ; he had done this before on 
the pampas of the South. But he was haunted 
by the thought that he would not be in time to 
save the ranche ; that the flames would be there 
before him, and have done their work of de- 
struction. 

And now he pressed his fresh horse, Barney, 
which he had taken, and away it flew over 
butte and coullee. How its feet clattered over 
the flint-strewn ranges and stony water-courses ; 
how it gathered itself together and leapt the 
yawning wash-outs alongside the creek ; how it 
went for the steep hill-sides, and tore down 
them again like a thing possessed ! A stumble 
over some treacherous badger-hole and it were 
a wicked fall — a man's neck were not worth the 
purchase then. Neck against leather, truly. 
But if a man does get his neck broken he never 
knows it : and after all a man can only die once. 
And what is death ? A stumble — a shock — the 
cervical vertebrae is severed in the twinkling of 
an eye : the body is clay, and the mind is noth- 
ingness. And then the fire comes up and burns 
him to a cinder, and there is no more about 
him. He has only anticipated Nature. 


io6 trbe 'BcviVe pla^gtounD* 

** Stay with it, Barney, my boy ! 

My God, how dark it grows ! — and the smoke. 
Phew ! it is a choking, blinding, hellish smoke ! 
There is a roar in one’s ears ; a fitting descrip- 
tion of which can only be found in the Scrip- 
tures : “ A noise like the roaring of a mighty 
wind.” 

And now, there is a blood-red, blinding, 
scorching glow right ahead of him : he is in a 
coullee of long, dry grass and reeds — a veritable 
funeral pyre : and the fire has traveled down it 
at the speed of a racehorse. Strain every 
nerve and muscle as you will, Barney, you are 
no match for it ! He could not stop his horse 
now if he tried, far less turn it ; a stumble, and 
it would be all up with him. There is a roar in 
his ears as of hell broken loose. It puts Dick 
in mind of a time when he was nearly drowned, 
and the waters thundered in his ears. His 
horse plunges madly and becomes demoralized. 
But only for a second — a cool, steady hand is 
pressed against the foam-flecked neck, and a 
couple of as firm, urging heels are pressed well 
into his flanks. Like a bolt from a cross-bow, 
Barney springs forward. 

** Ss-ssh ! ” A great tongue of flame shoots 
up right alongside and wraps him in its fiery 
folds. His eyebrows frizzle and singe. He is 
being burnt alive, and is stifling ; ‘‘ Oh, Barney, 
Barney ! ” 

What ! will he perish like a wild animal that 
has been caught in a trap? '‘Stay with it, 


Bgainet ITime anD jflre^ 107 

Barney! Go it, Barney! Through it, my 
boy ! ” 

A clattering of hoofs like ** the devil beating 
with iron sticks on a kettledrum of granite ! ” 
A sobbing gasp for breath — a horrible gulp of 
smoke — a fiery embrace of scorching flame — 
another leap — a blind, headlong charge at the op- 
posite hillside, and the burning valley is cleared 
— a veritable Valley of the Shadow of Death. 

A gust of cool, fresh air. “ Hurrah ! Bar- 
ney, my boy. There’s nothing like a touch of 
the devil in man or beast after all ; and a wise 
Providence helps those who help themselves ! ” 

And now the blackness of night unfolds a 
wonderful sight ; and for a minute or two, 
Travers checks his horse when the brow of the 
valley is gained, and looks upon the terrible 
magnificence, and awe-inspiring grandeur of 
the scene. 

It is as if a Babylon, undreamt of in immensity, 
were mapped out beneath him in lines of living 
fire. For at different levels on the heights and 
in the hollows of the burning prairie, terrace 
upon terrace of glowing flames and twinkling 
lights of every conceivable shape and color, 
travel and dance grotesquely. It is Babylon in 
flames. When that bloody monstrosity, Nero, 
caused a great city to be burned, in order that 
he might enjoy the spectacle of a miniature hell, 
behind his ghoulish proclivities there must have 
lurked a hankering after the picturesque some- 
where. 


io8 Zbc Dcvira iPla^^rounD* 

Now, it is an ocean with billows of glowing 
fire, that roll onwards and onwards, recede, 
cross, and recross, flicker, and die away again ; 
but which with a horrible perversity break out 
and flare up again, and are always coming 
nearer and nearer. Oh, these fiery crested 
billows ! Oh, these relentless flames ! It is 
like a burning world. It is like the realization 
of that day which the ancients depict : when 
“ the world will be wrapped in flames, and the 
elements melt with fervent heat.” 

And now Dick goes cautiously down the 
steep, stony hill-side ; ten miles more, and he 
will be at the ranche. He notices now that the 
Piegan Creek has headed the fire off away to 
the north-west, and he yet may be in time to 
burn a fire-break in the neighborhood of Big 
Plume Coullee. 

“ Now then, Barney, my boy, for another 
canter. You will earn a good rest on the mor- 
row, if you get there in time. ” 

How cool and fresh the air is, and a dew is 
surely falling that will somewhat deaden the 
flames. Is not that long line of twinkling lights 
that wave-like lick lazily along, and which show 
interminably through the night, somewhat like 
the lights of the Thames Embankment as seen 
from the Surrey side of old Father Thames.^ 

And it required no great stretch of imagina- 
tion for Dick, to clothe his surroundings with 
scenes like these. 

"‘Five miles more, Barney — three — two — 


Bgain6t Zirwc auD Jfivc. 109 

easy, my lad ; you have well been called ' man’s 
noblest friend ’ ; and well you knew — and let 
sycophants sneer — that in your broncho pluck 
rested only a matter of life or death this never- 
to-be-forgotten night. One mile at the most — 
steady, my pet — how your poor sides quiver 
and shake ! — steady, Barney ! — steady ! ” 

There at last ! Thank God I 


CHAPTER IX. 


‘‘CURSE HER FOR HER HEARTLESSNESS ! ’* 

When Dick arrived at the ranche, he could 
see no one about but the manager’s wife. She 
ran out to meet him, to ask with a practical 
turn of mind as to whether the round-up had 
succeeded in driving off the herd to a place of 
safety, and if he thought there was time to save 
the pasture immediately round the ranche. 

“ The cattle are all right, Mrs. MacMillan ; ” 
said Dick, “ but would you be kind enough to 
send Briggs to me, and get me two old broom- 
sticks and a couple of sacks. I think we’ll be 
able to head it off down by the creek. Where 
is Mrs. Tredennis? ” 

“ Oh, she and the young ladies and the 
master’s cousin have gone up to the knoll to 
have a look round them. I don’t believe they 
care a fig,” continued Mrs. MacMillan, with 
some asperity, “ as to whether the place is 
burned down or not. But here’s Briggs.” 

Briggs was an Englishman, and was ready 
and eager to be instructed in the somewhat 
arduous work of fighting prairie-fire. After put- 
ting his horse in the stable, Travers, and he, fix- 


^^Cur0c bet for bet Ibeattleeene^e J m 


ing the sacks at the end of the brooms, and 
wetting them in the creek, set off for the fire. 

By this time the wind had gone down ; the 
dew was falling, and the flames were crawling 
sluggishly and sleepily along. They went off 
for a couple of miles or so to the north, and 
beginning at the creek, beat out the fire at the 
rate of a slow walk. Dick was somewhat tired, 
but Briggs was as fresh as a young giant, and 
laid about him as if he were annihilating a mob 
of his enemies, instead of simply beating out 
what was only a feeble flame. 

One hour — two hours, and Dick was growing 
weary. They had wetted their sacks half a 
dozen times or so at the creek, and were nearly 
abreast of the ranche ; if they worked steadily 
for an hour or so they would be able to save all 
the country to the east of it. Even as yet the 
danger was not altogether past. As they toiled, 
the sweat running from every pore in their 
bodies, Dick heard voices coming from out the 
gloom to the east of him, and looking in that 
direction, he saw the figures of a man and 
woman coming towards him. The man had a 
long stick over one shoulder, and was carrying 
a pitcher ; the woman carried a basket ; Dick 
became strangely disturbed. 

‘‘For mercy’s sake, keep away, Mrs. Tre- 
dennis ! ” he cried, your dress may catch fire 
any minute. You don’t know what a danger 
you’re running by coming here. Anyhow,” he 
added bitterly, you can’t do any good now. 


1 12 ^be Devire iplai^^rounD* 

We have done the most that can be done ; as 
long as the wind keeps down the ranche is all 
right.” 

It was indeed the rancher’s wife, who, of all 
others in the world, perhaps, he least wanted to 
see just then, or at any other time. 

My dress cannot catch fire, Mr. Travers,” 
she said, quietly ; “ I was out when you came 
back, and knowing you had nothing to eat since 
you left the round-up, and that you would not 
take time to attend to yourself at the ranche, I 
brought you something out here. This is Tom’s 
cousin, Mr. Terry.” She introduced the gentle- 
man who stood beside her, and continued : 
“Now, Ned, you’ve got to take Mr. Travers’ 
place, and he will take some of this cold coffee 
and a sandwich. You can’t work, you know, 
unless you make yourself fit for it ” — she had 
noticed the look of dissent upon his face by the 
flickering light of the fire. Cousin Ned, in the 
meantime, was smiling pleasantly at Dick, and 
insisted on shaking hands with him, despite of 
the latter exhibiting a hand, by way of warning, 
that resembled a gentleman’s of color. But Mr. 
Terry explained that as his own would be in a 
like condition in a few minutes it did not matter. 
He said — 

“You’d better have a snack, Mr. Travers. 
I’ll take your place ; ’pon my word, you know, 
I’ve just been dying for some violent exercise.” 
And putting down the pitcher on the unburnt 
grass, and rolling up his dainty shirt sleeves — 


''Curae bcr for ber Ibeartleeeneoe ! 113 

for he was minus a coat — he took his fire-beat- 
ing apparatus and started in as Briggs had done, 
to fight fire, as if he were St. George, and the 
fire were a dragon ; and in a way which bid 
fair to play him out in a very short space of 
time, if he kept it up. 

The light from the advancing chain of fire 
had somewhat quickened again, and by its light 
they could see each other’s faces distinctly. She 
stood quietly regarding Dick for a minute with 
a strange, questioning look in her eyes ; and 
then, as if the practical necessities of the case 
had overcome any other considerations, she said 
quietly, with just a shade of diffidence in her 
voice — 

Won’t you have something to eat or drink ? 
You must be nearly worn out by this time.” 

He felt as if he could have ignored her alto- 
gether, but his instincts as a gentleman forbade 
him to. He was nothing to her now ; and why 
should she, who had so signally shown it, 
cruelly remind him of the past, and the difference 
between them in the present, by her presence 
there Why should she now trouble about 
such a small thing as his temporal comfort ? 
He said to himself it was characteristic of her 
after all — she liked to play the Lady Bountiful. 
It was easy for any one to be unselfish and self- 
denying in small things, but when it came to a 
large and life-long interest being at stake, it was 
quite a different matter. And she had not 
scrupled to sacrifice her own and other people’s 


II4 ^be IDevire lDlaMtounb> 

feelings to gain a sordid end. Perhaps her con- 
science troubled her not a little regarding him, 
and being, to a certain extent, a creature of 
kindly impulses, and one of those who cannot 
bear to think that any one should think harshly 
of them, she took this non-committal way of 
showing her contrition and making amends. 
In spite of that old longing for her, which he 
could not . wholly eliminate from his being, he 
experienced something akin to contempt for 
her. 

I would rather you had not thought about 
me at all,” he said, “ though I am sure Briggs 
will be glad to see these things. Can’t you 
understand how I feel about it ” 

For a minute there was a pained and startled 
look on her face, and he noted the quivering of 
her lip. It was very evident to him that she 
was genuinely disappointed, and felt his 
implied rebuke. But at the same time there 
came a new light into her eyes, which gave her 
courage, and which he could not understand. 
Travers, in spite of the high moral standpoint 
he had taken up, felt his resolution waver ; in 
another instant the natural kindly impulses of 
the man had reasserted themselves. 

“ I beg your pardon,” he said, quietly, “ but 
I find it very hard to forget. Give me some 
coffee, Mrs. Tredennis; I am both tired and 
thirsty. It was very good of you to remember 
us. I think the ranche is safe anyhow. The 
hay also is saved, and the country to the east.” 


**(i\xtec bcc for bet Ibeartlcoonese I ns 

He took a cup gently from her hand and 
dipped it in the pitcher, and taking a sandwich 
from the basket which she held out to him, ate 
it in silence ; but all the time she eyed him nar- 
rowly. Then she asked him, timidly, where he 
had left the round-up, and how he had man- 
aged to get through the prairie fire ; but never 
once did she mention her husband’s name. In 
the sombre light he looked upon the fair face 
that was turned up to him familiarly, and his 
thoughts went back to the days when she had 
looked up to him just as she did now, but un- 
der such different circumstances. It seemed 
unreal, and like some quaint dream to see her 
face looking from out the surrounding gloom, 
with the lurid light playing upon it. Surely it 
was one of those fantastic dreamland scenes ; 
for oftentimes he had spoken to her just like 
this, with all the trouble and tragedy of the 
past as if it had never been. Every minute he 
expected to wake up and find that he had been 
dreaming. And now they seemed to forget 
that time was precious, and she urged him to 
eat and drink. Cousin Ned ” and Briggs 
were at least three hundred yards away, and 
the imaginary dragons they were fighting were 
having a rough time of it. 

“ Why don’t you go home to England, Dick ? 
She was not aware that she was using the old 
name. “You must be tired of wandering 
about the world like this : your people will be 
glad to see you back. I’m sure.” 


ii6 Zbc WcviVe iPlai^^rounO* 

She had said this in a quiet, earnest way. 

“ Not they ! ” he laughed. If the old folks 
had been alive I would have gone long ago. 
The prodigal son, if he does go back in rags, is 
always the same little chap they dreamt and 
prayed such different things about. But it is a 
cold reception, generally speaking, a man gets 
from his other relatives, if he does not happen 
to have a pound or two in his pocket. More 
especially, if either through his own folly or 
misfortune, he has gone down in the social 
scale, while they have gone up. No ; if I went 
home I would only be ‘ that scape-grace Dick,’ 
and they would speculate as to the cheapest 
way of getting rid of me again. With all due 
reverence to the Scriptures, I often think it very 
evident that the man who fell amongst thieves, 
when traveling from Jerusalem to Jericho, was 
a stranger to the good Samaritan, and not a 
relation; otherwise, three men might have 
passed by on the other side instead of two. 
Oh, no ! ” he concluded with a cynical little 
laugh, ** the only thing I have left now is my in- 
dependence, and that is not of much account 
— goodness knows. Had I a brother, it is to 
be hoped I would be speaking differently.” 

She would not trust herself to refute what he 
said ; but there was a brighter look in her eyes 
when she again spoke, and they became won- 
derfully soft as she looked at him. Surely she 
was not the woman who had wrecked the life 
of this man ! 


**(li\xcc bee for bet Ibeartlcsencoe ! 117 


“ We must see more of you, Dick, before we 
go back to England. And there are two girls 
who have come here on a visit whom I should 
like you to know ; they came a couple of days 
ago. We are going to organize a sort of 
camping-out excursion after the round-up is 
over, and going away south into the unknown 
country. You can either shoot with Mr. Terry, 
and Tredennis, or look after the girls, and see 
that they don’t get lost, whichever you like best. 
I think we should have a good time.” She no- 
ticed the short shake of his head implying dis- 
sent, and hastened to say Oh, but you must 
come ! ” 

But here Dick recollected himself. Was it 
for him to stand idly here, talking to Mrs. Tre- 
dennis, while others were busily engaged fight- 
ing the fire ? Another hour’s work, and they 
would have fought it to the creek, and all danger 
would be past. 

“Mrs. Tredennis,” he said at length, “go 
back to the ranche, or let me go back with 
you ; I can take the basket to Briggs ; I must 
not let these two do all the work.” 

“ I should say you had done more than your 
share already,” she said, simply. “ I shall go 
back by my myself. Neither the girls nor I shall 
go to bed until you have come back ; and re- 
member you must come over to the house with 
* Cousin Ned,’ as we always call him.” And 
inclining her head smilingly, she went off in the 
dim light towards the ranche again. 


ii8 ^be 'BcviVe plai^atounb^ 

The imaginary dragons slain by the redoubt- 
able Cousin Ned and Briggs still seemed as 
numerous as ever. Tredennis took Briggs’ 
place ; and after an hour’s hard work, the fire 
had been fought to the edge of the creek ; and 
now the ranche and the pasture to the east of it 
might be said to be saved. Round about them 
was an inky darkness, but far away to the 
south and north could be seen feeble reflections 
in the sky, where the fire was dying hard. 
They made their way back to the ranche, and 
Cousin Ned, who now somewhat resembled a 
chimney-sweep, and a disreputable one at that, 
looked down in the gloom upon his natty, Poole 
made trousers, and dainty white shirt, now any- 
thing but dainty. 

“ Whew ! ” he exclaimed, “ I think, Travers, I 
rather think I’ve had exertion enough to last me 
all the rest of my natural life — first time in my 
life, by the way, I ever did anything — glad to 
have made myself useful ; but hope to goodness 
those girls have gone to bed.” 

But those girls had not gone to bed, and the 
little man, when he came near the front of the 
house, (he had seriously meditated slipping in by 
a window, or by some back way), stood still with 
horror, for there was a light in that French win- 
dow, and the laughing voices of girls came from 
it. 

Dick had to take him by the arm and arouse 
him from the spell of horror that had overtaken 
him. 


Curse ber for ber Ibeartlessness ! 119 

Come this way,” he said to him, you can 
wash in my quarters, and then go over ; when 
you’ve put your coat over your shirt it will be 
all right.” 

The little man would have wrung Dick’s 
hand with gratitude, at such an unexpected 
deliverance, had Dick given him an opportunity. 
They had a good wash at MacMillan’s ; and 
Dick was about to wish the little man good- 
night, or rather good-morning, when Briggs 
came in, and told him that Mrs. Tredennis 
wanted to see him over at the house. 

“ Of course you’ve. got to come,” said Cousin 
Ned ; “ in fact, I’m not going there without you : 
so come along.” 

Dick felt as if he rather would have been 
excused — in fact, he felt that to have let him go 
quietly to bed would have been the greater 
kindness. Most likely it meant more refresh- 
ment. It was like the pranks of three giddy 
girls to sit up till that time of the morning, 
and organize an impromptu entertainment of the 
kind. He did not feel very like meeting young 
ladies in his rather begrimed condition ; but as 
Cousin Ned, on account of his inexperience, 
was in a much worse plight than he was, he 
would make the best of things. 

They went round by the front door, and 
entered. The French window was thrown 
open, and a flood of light poured out upon the 
grey morn. There was a Napierian coffee- 
stand upon the table, and a spirit lamp under- 


120 Zbc Devire iPla^grounD* 

neath it ; a tray with substantial looking cups 
and saucers ; and another with dainty looking 
sandwiches. There were two fresh, fair-haired, 
Saxon-looking girls regarding Cousin Ned 
laughingly, and the newcomer with not a little 
curiosity ; and there was Mrs. Tredennis, who, 
all smiles and in the heartiest manner in the 
world, bade them enter. She introduced 
Travers to the two sisters, whose name was 
Dalton ; and then bestowed her attention to 
making the coffee and to Cousin Ned. It was 
a touch of home comfort that Dick had not 
experienced for many a long day ; under its in- 
fluence he forgot the trouble that somehow 
always haunted him like an evil shadow, and 
talked away to the two girls as if he must have 
known them of old. But it was Cousin Ned to 
whom was left the literal task of making his 
mark ; and he did so in a most thorough and 
conscientious manner. 

Travers, when he entered, conscious of the 
condition — which was sooty — of his nether gar- 
ments, had carefully avoided sitting down on any 
chair about which there was any suspicion of up- 
holstery or covering of a delicate nature. But 
innocent Cousin Ned, plumped down on one 
which was covered with some light chintz 
pattern, and the result was, that when he rose 
to assist Mrs. Tredennis by handing round the 
cups, the effect was alarmingly apparent. Then 
Mrs. Tredennis pretended to be very much dis- 
tressed, and the two girls laughed immoderately. 


*^Cx\xec ber for ber t>cnxtlcemcBeV^ 121 


Poor Ned looked ruefully upon his work, but 
only for a second, and brightening up declared 
that “ he had made his mark at last.” Pie had 
been trying to do it, he said, for quite a number 
of years and would have given up in despair, 
but this was encouragement indeed. In fact, 
the little man seemed in no way put out. Mrs. 
Tredennis seemed in the best of spirits; and 
despite the early hour of the morning and the 
fatigue which he had undergone, Dick, drawn 
out by the lightheartedness of the little party, 
chatted away unreservedly. He told some 
amusing experiences he had met with in his 
rolling-stone existence; and which seemed to 
his audience almost like a page out of some 
wonderful work of fiction. He was quite for- 
getting the lateness of the hour, when suddenly 
he recollected himself, and sprang to his feet to 
apologize and bid them good-night. 

Have you any message to send back to Mr. 
Tredennis ? ” he asked his hostess, “ because, 
when Pve had a couple of hours’ sleep. I’ll go 
back to the round-up.” 

“ You need be in no hurry to go,” she said, 
simply. “ No, I don’t think I have any word to 
send. I only hope you may all soon be back 
again ; Ned, here, is good enough, only, when 

there is no one else ” The little man here 

darted an indignant look at her. “ Besides, we 
must see about that excursion into No-Man’s 
Land, when you come back, and of course I 
want you, and Mr. Holmes, to come with us. 


122 XLbc lS>cviVe IMai^grounJ)^ 

We must make the most of our time now, be- 
fore the winter sets in.’' 

Half hesitatingly she held her hand out to 
him — perhaps she had only done it uncon- 
sciously from the force of habit — and for the 
first time for many years he took it in his. But 
there was a something in her action that he 
could not understand, and afterwards, when he 
had retired to his own quarters, he puzzled over 
it. 

She could not have realized the evil she has 
wrought me,” he said to himself, or she would 
not have dared to offer me her hand. Curse 
her for her' heartlessness ! ” he added, bitterly, 
as the old pain that had been gnawing at his 
heart for years, began to ache again in the lone- 
liness of his quarters. 


CHAPTER X. 


DEEPER IN THE TOILS. 

Next morning, or rather on the same morn- 
ing of the events narrated in the last chapter, 
Dick was up betimes, and with a strange fever- 
ish eagerness to be off. He was even up be- 
fore the indefatigable Mrs. MacMillan, of whom 
the irrepressible Billie was wont to say that, 
according to his firm belief, that good dame 
never went to bed at all. Billie, however, did 
not like the Scotch. They were too painfully 
suggestive of the practical details and hum- 
drum monotony of this work-a-day world for 
him ; and Billie’s soul would fain have soared 
above the sordid necessity of having to work 
for a living. 

To Dick’s chagrin, he found his horse, Bar- 
ney, lame. The poor animal stood in the stall 
with a dejected air ; there was a pinched look 
about it, and the hay in the rack was untouched. 
However, on hearing Dick’s step, it cocked its 
ears, and, turning round, whinnied, as some 
horses do, brushing its nose against his face, 
and testifying to its affection with dumb elo- 
quence. It is, perhaps, not to be wondered at 


124 ^be 2)evir0 JMa^arounb^ 

after all ; but he whose horse has been his most 
constant companion (whether in the Australian 
bush or on the North American prairies, where 
the wily black man lurks with his spear in the 
mallee scrub, or where the red man or the 
grizzly lurks in the coullee) can testify that at 
the first signs of danger, the horse seeks the 
camp and its master. Dick, divining there was 
something wrong, was leading it outside, when 
he discovered what he feared, and what his 
practiced eye had told him — Barney was suffer- 
ing from the effects of the wild ride of the day 
before, and had contracted a strain. “ Oh, my 
poor Barney ! ” he cried aloud, with concern ; 
and then, his mood changing quickly, as was his 
wont, he continued, Curse me for a fool for 
killing a horse like you, to help those who hold 
my life of as little account as they do yours ! 

** Indeed! ” 

She stood there in the doorway ; a lovely 
vision truly, in her bright, trim, morning dress. 
It was Mrs. Tredennis. With her fresh, fair 
face, and a gleam of sunlight in her hair, an 
artist might have taken her as his model for a 
modern Aphrodite, or Hermione : she seemed 
to breathe of the spirit of the dawn. So light 
had her step been, that he had not heard her 
approach. 

And now, as she heard his words, her head 
was thrown back, her cheek was slightly 
flushed, and there was an indignant light in her 
eyes. It was not difficult, however, to see that 


125 


Deeper in tbe a:oil6^ 

a spirit of disappointment and mortification 
tinged her voice, although she tried to conceal 
this fact, and that underneath all, there lurked 
some secret trouble that made her patient with 
this man. 

“ Indeed ! ” she continued. By what right, 
I ask you, Mr. Travers, do you say such things 
of me ? Have I not asked you to leave the 
past alone ? and have you not said yourself, 
that I am nothing to you.^ — for it would be 
useless of me to pretend to misunderstand your 
meaning.” 

He had faced her as soon as he had spoken 
his strange speech, and had become aware of 
her presence, in an annoyed and angry fashion, 
and as if he were ready to defend his rude 
speech. But there are many things spoken 
aloud, and meant to be so, in a moment of ex- 
citement, that one would wish unheard. Now, 
he was ashamed to think — no matter what his 
estimate of her was — that within the last twelve 
hours he had twice forgotten that respect 
which was due to her as a lady, and that due 
to himself as a gentleman. Moreover, he was 
chagrined to think she should discover that she 
occupied that share in his thoughts which she 
did. After all, this palpable contempt for her, 
which he tried to wear, as it were, upon his 
sleeve, had for its origin a reason which was 
very different from its apparent issue, and 
which in vain he tried to rid himself of. It was 
the smouldering embers of an old fire — his old 


126 ^be 2)evir9 

love for her. In a second their positions were 
reversed. 

I beg your pardon, Mrs. Tredennis,” he 
said, in a quiet and totally different manner. 
“ I don’t know what is the matter with me 
sometimes : I am continually saying things that 
I don’t mean. I’ll soon be so cranky, that no 
one will be able to live with me.” 

He was uneasy, and picked up one of Bar- 
ney’s legs. 

“ That is better, Dick.” She gave a little un- 
easy laugh. “ In any case, don’t let us quarrel. 
I’ve enough to bear without doing that. Now, 
you must not misunderstand me.” (He had 
looked up into her face suddenly, with one hand 
still upon Barney’s fetlock.) “ He^ is goodness 
itself to me.” 

She might have added, and quite truthfully 
too, that she felt ashamed of herself sometimes, 
when she thought of the slight return she made 
of this kindness. 

And Dick said bitterly to himself, Curse 
her, it is always of him she thinks ; he doesn’t 
care for her any more than he does for one of 
his most useful dogs ; and she speaks of him 
now, as she once spoke of me.” 

When a man curses a woman, he either 
thinks himself justified in doing so, or else he 
has been miscalled a man. 

But the unanswered question which had 
arisen was, what burden was it that this woman 
had to bear, and which she so vaguely referred 
to ? She interrupted his thoughts. 


Deeper in tbe tToile* 127 

Poor Barney ! ” she said, patting his sleek 
mane and honest nose, and regarding anxiously 
the drawn up leg, where Dick was locating the 
seat of the trouble. Oh, Dick, do you think 
it pains him much } Do you think he will soon 
get all right again ? ” 

Dick did not even smile at her solicitude., 

Oh, yes, I think he will,” he said, somewhat 
ruefully, however. Only I cannot take him 
with me ; I must take another horse ; there are 
lots here luckily. Perhaps you might allow 
Briggs to take a look at Barney s leg now and 
again ; he is more experienced than young 
Adams.” 

He looked at her inquiringly ; but she only 
smiled upon him by way of reply. 

After a pause, she said, And I myself shall , 
see that Briggs does it.” 

“ Thanks ! ” Then he continued, in a very 
different tone of voice from that which he had 
adopted at first, ‘You must be a very early 
riser, Mrs. Tredennis?” 

He led poor limping Barney back into the 
stall. 

“ I usually am,” she said guiltily, and feeling 
somehow secretly glad that the letter she had 
written to her husband over-night was safe 
in her pocket, and that, after all, he knew noth- 
ing of it. “ But you will not go back to the 
round-up to-day.^ Surely, you rode enough 
yesterday to do you for a couple of days } ” 

But seeing the look of a fixed purpose upon 


128 Ube Bevira iplai^^rouub^ 

his face, she continued, “ Then if you will let 
us know, just a little before you start out, per- 
haps the girls, Mr. Terry, and I will ride with 
you part of the way. I want to find the old 
Macleod trail where it crosses Eagle Butte. In 
the meantime, you had better come over and 
have breakfast with us. You cannot come ! 

I am afraid, Dick, you are in rather an unsocia- 
ble mood this morning. Then we will see you 
later on.” 

And with a pleasant nod she tripped off, as if 
theirs had been the most casual acquaintance 
in the world. 

Dick looked after her thoughtfully ; the sud- 
denness with which her mood had changed puz- 
zled him. Her bearing towards him was an 
enigma from first to last. His instincts — and 
perhaps they are the safer guides — told him 
that she was playing a part. He firmly be- 
lieved that this woman had jilted him for the most: 
mercenary of motives, and in the cruellest way. 
Fate (so called, and only a natural sequence of 
events, which, were it possible for one individ- 
ual to control, might be attended with less 
remarkable coincidences) had brought them 
together again in a manner that few romancists 
would have dreamt of. He could not reconcile 
the part she played, which was not that of the con- 
scious wrongdoer, but rather that of one whose 
moral sense and finer feelings, have been dead- 
ened to that which ought to have been palpable. 
It was difficult for him to believe that the girl 


129 


Deepec in tbe XLoile. 

he had once known, and whose nobility of soul 
he had once believed in, just as firmly as he had 
believed in that parental love which had watched 
over him when a child, had changed so utterly. 
But still the fact remained that when he had 
taxed her with heartless conduct towards him, 
she had not attempted to gainsay it. She had 
only asked him to dismiss the past from his 
mind altogether. Was it that she made light 
of the past, and could never have felt as he had 
done ? Or was it that, deep down within her, 
there was a “ still, small voice that would not 
be hushed, and which she tried to appease by 
endeavoring to make amends — by treating him 
with kindness and consideration, with the ul- 
timate hope, perhaps, that time might dull the 
edge of his disappointment, and show him all 
that was commonplace in her nature ? Per- 
haps he might be brought to see that she was 
not worthy of his serious consideration after 
all. She had the keen instincts of her sex ; 
but doubtless she under-rated the deep, strong 
under-current of this man’s nature. Instead of 
trying to cure him of the old disease, she ought 
to have allowed it to run its course, and let him 
go on his own way. But it was the old story of 
the Argonaut of old-world seas, with Scylla on 
the one side, and Charybdis on the other. Bet- 
ter for herself and himself, perhaps, if she had 
let him go. 

But Dick was in an uncharitable frame of 
mind ; he told himself that she was a heartless 


130 Q^be lS>cviVe plai^^rounD* 

coquette — one who had the power to draw him 
whichever way her fancy listed. She was in 
his eyes a species of human vampire, whose 
thirst for the blood of man would never be 
satiated — she played a part in order to consum- 
mate the utter destruction of his already 
wrecked life. And still she was the wife of an- 
other man. But so was Laura when Petrarch 
made her name immortal, and pined for the 
love of her in the dim, dead past, hundreds of 
years ago, in sunny Italy. Alas! that the 
higher law should grow weaker, and be lost 
sight of, as Nature’s law asserts its more potent 
touch. But is this not only part of the great 
scheme — that only through the lessons Error 
teaches, shall mind at last attain the mastery 
over matter ? 

He cursed her for her heartlessness ; and he 
cursed himself for his folly, in that he could 
not break the spell that bound him to her, and 
which was ever more surely weaving its invisi- 
ble toils around him. 

Dick went into the foreman’s house, and 
having had what little breakfast he wanted, 
was about to send some excuse over to Mrs. 
Tredennis, and start off by himself, when he 
was surprised by the volatile Mr. Terry, other- 
wise Cousin Ned, breaking in upon him. 

“ How are you, my dear fellow ; how are 
you ? ” said that individual, shaking Dick by 
the hand, as if he were a particularly near and 
dear relative whom he had lost sight of for at 


Deeper in tbe Zoile, 131 

least a dozen years. '' Heard you were up at a 
most unconscionable hour, and that you insist 
on going back to the round-up. Now if you 
must go back, the ladies and I would like to 
ride part of the way with you. They want to 
have a look at a bit of burnt prairie, I suppose ; 
rather a dismal sight I should fancy. You’ll let 
us know when you think of starting out ? ” 

The spirits of the little man were infec- 
tious. 

“I’m going as soon as I can catch a horse,” 
said Dick ; “ the lad has run a few into the cor- 
ral. Didn’t know there was more than one 
lady’s hack on the ranche.” 

“ Mrs. Tredennis broke in a couple to the 
side-saddle while you’ve been away. I’ll just 
run across and tell them, and get Briggs to sad- 
dle up. You won’t have a drop of something 
before you start No! — quite right — sun not 
in the desired quarter yet when taken advan- 
tage of by nautical men. Back in a Jiffey,” and 
Cousin Ned, still talking, hurried off. 

In half an hour the party had saddled up and 
were ready for a start. Mrs. Tredennis rode 
her own bay mare, and the Dalton girls, and 
Mr. Terry rode well-cared-for and evidently 
well broken bronchos, which for general use 
and sure-footedness, are by far the best and 
most serviceable hacks on the prairie. 

Away they went over the billowy expanse of 
rolling prairie, and left the bright-colored, bold, 
pine-crested crags behind them. There was a 


132 ^be Dcvire plais^rounb* 

peculiar smell as of some burnt substance in 
the keen, dry air, and a haziness in the eastern 
horizon that betokened the presence of the Fire 
King in that direction. They crossed Medicine 
Lodge Coullee, and rounded the shoulder of 
Eagle Butte*’ by the old Fort Macleod trail. 
Then. Lo ! as if by the wand of an enchanter, 
a weird sight met their gaze — an apparently 
limitless, jet-black landscape. 

Far as the eye could reach to the west, lay a 
rolling land of buttes and coullees, that, like bil- 
low upon billow on an interminable expanse of 
ocean, pursued and rose one on another, until 
they rolled away and became part of the dead 
level again of the far horizon line. But they 
were billows of a vivid, inky blackness — they 
were black as night, and contrasted strangely 
with the smiling azure of the heavens. To one 
who had never seen the effects of a prairie fire, 
it was an outri sight. But to look towards the 
south-west there was another effect, and a 
stranger one still. For, as if a jagged knife 
had been drawn from north-east to south-west, 
the country to the east of that jagged line was 
untouched by the fire, and the result was, that 
one-half of the landscape was of a light grey 
tone, and the other was as black as ink. And 
set in the bosom of that jet-black sea, like a 
diamond set in a bed of ebony, gleamed Pagh- 
ogh-kee Lake, that lake which the Indians have 
named Bad Water Lake, now none the less 
striking on account of the snow-white alkali 


Beeper in tbe Zoile* 133 

which crusted its banks, and contrasted so 
strongly with its setting. 

‘‘ Do you think it would be possible to convey 
even a faint idea of such a scene, supposing 
one could transfer it to canvas?" Mrs. Tre- 
dennis asked Dick. She had brought her 
horse alongside his, and asked the question in 
an abstracted fashion. 

“ The scene is blighted and desolate enough : 
to you it might prove a congenial subject ; for 
my part I’d prefer something more cheerful." 
He said this easily enough, and without look- 
ing at her. 

She turned her head quickly and looked at 
him ; the same flush coming into her cheeks, 
and the same light into her eyes, just as they 
had done only a few hours before. She gazed 
at him steadily for a second or two, then turned 
away without making any comment on what 
savored of flippancy. 

It is fortunate you have to go in a southerly 
direction," she said, at length, for now we 
can keep off the burnt country. It is not a 
particularly cheerful sight, I must admit," She 
checked her horse for an instant, under the 
pretext of getting something from the pouch 
attached to her side-saddle ; but when she rode 
on again it was alongside Mr. Terry. And the 
two quick-witted English girls intuitively ex- 
changed glances ; they had seen her in a light 
which was not only a surprise, but a puzzle to 
them. From such trivial details, are strange 
conclusions sometimes drawn. 


134 ^be WcviVe iplai^^rounb^ 

It was a glorious autumn day, and as they 
rode abreast they chatted merrily and unre- 
servedly. The keen, dry air, of the prairie is 
an elixir whose power can only be estimated 
by those who have experienced it. Suddenly, 
and as they walked their horses along a stony 
coullee through which a languidly, flowing 
creek filtered, they met with an unexpected 
interruption. 


' CHAPTER XI. 


‘‘ HANDS UP,'* AND THE NORTHWEST MOUN- 
TED POLICE. 

The interruption, referred to in the preceding 
chapter, came in the shape of a horseman, who, 
in a second, Dick recognized as a Northwest 
Mounted Policeman, belonging to that semi- 
military organization, whose pet predilections 
are horse thieves, ‘‘bad men," and Indians. 
Though in undress prairie-rig there was no 
mistaking him. Peeping from the tops of his 
heavy leather chaperegos were the dark blue, 
tight-fitting breeches, with the yellow stripe of 
the dragoon — one could not see the long riding 
boots. He wore no coat, but a dark grey shirt 
with a white pocket-handkerchief tied round his 
neck loosely, showing his sunburnt throat. A 
dark karlee jacket, with a neat military button, 
was tied to the saddle behind him. A brown 
slouch hat shaded his eyes. To the high horn 
of his Californian saddle was slung a Winchester 
repeating rifle, of large calibre ; a heavy Enfield 
revolver, and a belt full of brass cartridges 
encircled his waist. He rode a mettlesome 
broncho, which bore the legend M.P. branded 


136 XTbe 'BcviVe iplai^grounb* 

on its near shoulder, and there was a regimental 
number branded on its hoof. The man himself 
was a good-looking fellow enough, with an 
alert, pleasant, open face that was tanned by 
the sun and wind until it was as brown as a 
berry. There was an air about him that 
bespoke a training which the cowboy — whom at 
first sight he not a little resembled — could not 
lay claim to. When he raised his broad- 
brimmed prairie hat on approaching the party, 
he showed keen, dark eyes, that were quick to 
observe, and betokened a mind that was as 
quick to act. Belonging to a profession that 
has at all times to be prepared to face danger, a 
certain air of sang-froid sat well on a resolute 
but not unkindly face. He had walked his 
horse down a little side coullee that^ led to the 
creek bottom. A little further up the coullee 
could be observed other two Mounted Police- 
men, and a long-haired, lanky half-breed, who 
was evidently a scout. When he got within a 
few yards of them, he was evidently not a little 
surprised to find such a strange party in such an 
out-of-the-way part of the country ; he halted, 
but said, without seeming embarrassment — 

beg your pardon for interrupting you, and 
I can only make the discharge of my duty my 
apology. You see I am a Mounted Policeman. 
I do not wish to alarm you, ladies ; but if you 
wouldn’t mind waiting up this coullee for half 
an hour or so, or at least traveling in some 
other direction than down this creek bottom, I 


XLbc Irtortbweet /Iftounteb ipoUce* 137 

should be very much obliged. The fact of the 
matter is, there’s a couple of fellows camped at 
the present moment not a couple of miles from 
here, with whom we are anxious to have an 
interview. They come from Montana, and one 
is wanted for murder ; both are wanted for lack 
of discrimination between their own and their 
neighbor’s horseflesh. We were just proceed- 
ing to hold them up when we saw you coming, 
but thought perhaps you would like an oppor- 
tunity of avoiding such a painful interview. ” He 
smiled pleasantly and as if he were telling about 
the most commonplace matter in the world. 
Observing Dick particularly, he addressed him- 
self to him. “ I see you have your revolver, and 
I know who you are. If you care about taking 
a hand in the formalities, we shall be glad to 
have you, as I’ve one man — a lad here — whom 
I think it would be more discreet to leave with 
the spare horses ; I rather think that ‘ Black 
Jim ’ and his worthy friend have a couple of 
horses in their possession, that you will be able 
to identify. The other gentleman ” — looking at 
Mr. Terry — “ can stop and protect the ladies.” 

“ By all means,” Dick answered, eagerly. He 
looked at the ladies inquiringly ; but there was 
no dissent in their looks. 

“ Do you mind excusing me ? ” he asked. 
“ I consider it only my duty to go. You see, 
these Montana chaps are evidently making free 
with our horses. You can go back to the 
ranche, if you would prefer it, or rest here up 


138 XTbe Devira plai^grounb^ 

the coullee. Perhaps you had better go back," 
he added, thoughtfully. 

His manner had changed. There was a 
chance of a tussle and a bit of excitement, not 
to speak of a considerable spice of danger, 
and his spirits rose. He looked at Mrs. Tre- 
dennis. 

“ Why, certainly go, Mr. Travers," she said 
promptly, and as if some of the excitement of 
the situation had communicated itself to her. 
“ I wish " — turning to the trooper — “ that I 
were a man, to be able to go with you." 

The trooper, no matter what surprise he felt 
at this rather unorthodox speech, merely lifted 
his hat and smiled in a pleased sort of fashion. 

Then turning again to Dick, she added — 

You can go if you want to, and we shall 
rest up here until you come back ; but pray take 
care of yourself, and don’t be rash — you always 
were." 

** Oh, I’ll be all right," Dick answered, care- 
lessly. And then as the party turned their 
horses’ heads up the coullee, and his horse al- 
most brushed against that of Mrs. Tredennis, 
he said, in a lower tone, and with a slight laugh, 
“ Your solicitude is very gratifying, I’m sure." 
And the elder of the two English girls — she 
with the fair, fresh skin, and the thoughtful 
look in her striking dark blue eyes — heard the 
veiled sarcasm, and turned away her face 
quickly, so that she might hear no more. 

The rest of the party acquiesced readily in 


Zbc IFlortbwest /iRounteD police^ 139 

the plan. The non-commissioned officer of po- 
lice — for such he was — led them up the little 
coullee. When they had reached a little grassy 
amphitheatre the troopers came forward, and 
with a courtesy which somewhat surprised the 
ladies of the party, assisted them to dismount. 
Perhaps the latter had forgotten the fact just 
then, that the rank and file of this force is 
largely composed of gentlemen. 

“ Here, Jim,” said the non-com., “ get the 
hobbles out of the pack ; or perhaps, under the 
circumstances, it would be better simply to tie 
the horses up in the shade.” There was a 
couple of ancient cotton-wood trees, keeping 
sentinel over a little spring in the side of the 
coullee. Now, Markham ” — this to a good 
looking young fellow, who seemed a mere lad 
— “ you have got to stop here and keep your 
eye on the spare horses. I’m sorry I can’t ask 
you to take a hand in this affair, but you will be 
performing a more important duty by remain- 
ing here with the ladies. We shall not be 
longer away than we can help. You, sir ” — 
turning to Dick — “can take this spare Win- 
chester. Yes, magazine full and one in the 
breech: eight shots. All right Then we 
shall proceed.” At the same moment he 
quickly pushed a pair of nickel-plated hand- 
cuffs into his belt, and flung another pair to 
the other constable. “ Carry them so that they 
won’t rattle,” he said, briefly. 

“ Now then, Mac,” said Markham, “if you’re 


140 XTbe WcviVe KMai^QrounD* 

inclined to be rash, think of Larry’s ten-dollar 
cofhn.” 

The non-com. only laughed. 

‘‘ Do I gather from what you say,” queried 
Mr. Terry, that a policeman’s funeral ex- 
penses are limited to two pounds sterling.^ 
You can’t get a decent coffin for that.” 

“ No, not a decent one,” answered the com- 
municative youngster, and I’ll tell you be- 
cause I think it ought to be known ; but it will 
get one like the temper of the man who framed 
the General Order regarding it — a deuced ' in- 
different * one.” 

Then the policeman and the dark-eyed, long- 
haired scout, tightened the cinches on their 
saddles, slung their carbines, and without a 
word headed up the coullee. In another min- 
ute they had passed out of sight. The breed 
was in the lead, then the non-com. , then Dick, 
and the buck ” brought up the rear. 

And all this had happened in such a very few 
minutes that before the ladies and Mr. Terry 
could almost realize it, they were alone with 
the youthful Mounted Policeman. After a few 
minutes, during which this individual had fur- 
tively taken stock ” of the ladies of the party, 
and after having seen that the horses were tied 
up properly, he broke the silence. He was evi- 
dently a gentleman, but an odd character, and 
addressed himself to Mr. Terry ; but the ladies 
had the benefit of, and were not a little amused 
by his conversation. It was very evident he 


®be floctbwest /Bbounteb iPoUcCt 141 


was much disappointed at not being allowed to 
accompany his comrades ; but the ladies he 
was left with were young and good looking, 
and so, what he had set his heart upon doing, 
and his innate gallantry, had a hard struggle 
within him. 

“ It s always the way,” he remarked, sadly ; 
“ my chance for the stripes gone again, unless 
Mac, that’s the non-com., puts in a word for 
me. They’ll have to look out for ' Black Jim,’ 
however ; he shot a comrade over at Benton, 
and he will put some lead into one or other of 
them safe enough, if they don’t look precious 
smart. It means transportation for life if not 
hanging for him anyhow, so he doesn’t care 
what he does.” 

You think there’s a chance of one or other 
of them getting shot, then ? ” asked Miss Dal- 
ton, as she sat on the mossy bank, tapping one 
of her boots with her riding whip, and gazing 
fixedly at the opposite side of the little coullee. 
She raised her eyes suddenly, and scanned the 
face of the policeman, who wondered if he had 
forgotten himself, and inadvertently lapsed in 
some “ barrack-room ” jargon. He blushed, 
and stammered — 

'‘Well, yes — no — that is, there can be little 
doubt. I should not like to commit myself, but 
I should certainly say that of your two friends, 
this gentleman runs much less risk of getting 
some lead introduced into his system than the 
other one.’’ 


142 ®be 2)ev>ir9 ©la^grounb* 

*'Why, come now,” interrupted the some- 
what discomfited Cousin Ned, I like that, you 
know ; I had as little choice in the matter as 
you had yourself. I would rather have enjoyed 
a pop at the beggars.” 

The younger of the two girls straightway 
called him a “ blood-thirsty creature,” but Mrs. 
Tredennis and Miss Dalton were evidently in a 
thoughtful mood. However were they to put 
in the time until the party came back again ? 
Mrs. Tredennis looked at her watch — ten min- 
utes past twelve. It was twelve when Dick 
had left them. What a strange and unex- 
pected position for a party of well-bred Eng- 
lish people to be in, who perhaps only a few 
weeks before had been unconcernedly picking 
their way along the classic flags of Oxford 
Street. 

'' However,'* said the good-looking irrepres- 
sible, ‘'they have not M’Ginty to spoil the 
whole thing ; and Louey, that’s the scout, is to 
be relied upon.” 

“ Who is M’Ginty? ” asked Mr. Terry, only 
too glad to indulge in conversation however 
trivial. The ladies were so strangely silent, 
and the time seemed to drag so heavily. 

“ Well, perhaps it is questionable taste — if it 
is not indiscreet to begin with — to talk about 
my superiors to comparative strangers ; but 
then M’Ginty has through his own folly ren- 
dered himself so notorious, that there are few 
members of the force who scruple to talk about 


tTbe Bortbvveat /ilbounteD ipollce* 143 

him openly. M’Ginty, as we call him, is an in- 
spector. He got his commission through 
political influence — some uncle or other who 
only imperfectly knew his nephew. When he 
laid down the yard-stick — he had been in a dry- 
goods store — and took up the sword, like all 
beggars when put on horseback, he became a 
martinet and the laughing-stock of the force. 
He once told a comrade of mine to use his own 
discretion in a certain difficult task he was en- 
gaged in. Then, when this man did his duty — 
a difficult and unpleasant one, I can tell you — 
and incurred the ill-will of a few civilian friends 
of this inspector’s, and with whom he clashed, 
M’Ginty fined him on suspicion of having used 
his own brains, and for not keeping awake for 
seventy-two hours at a stretch. He was told 
that * a policeman was a machine, and not sup- 
posed to think.’ Goodness save the mark ! 
Why, there are men of the rank and file — but 
I’d better hold my tongue. I’ve said more than 
I intended to say.” 

The younger Miss Dalton laughed. Was 
there no appeal for your friend ? ” she asked. 

‘‘ Thank goodness, there was ! ” answered 
the communicative young private. “ M’Ginty’s 
superior was a sensible man as well as a gen- 
tleman, and promptly sat on M’Ginty. We 
have many good officers, however. Perhaps 
the best we ever had, was the late Assistant 
Commissioner, Colonel Herchmer.” 

There was a pause after this, during which 


144 ^be 'BcviVe iPla^^rounD* 

the policeman employed himself in fixing the 
buckle of a very unregimental looking Mexican 
spur, and looking furtively at the younger of 
the two girls. Mrs. Tredennis had _ risen from 
the mossy bank on which she had seated her- 
self, and was pacing aimlessly backwards and 
forwards. Miss Dalton sat silent and immov- 
able, with an uneasy look on her face that in 
vain she tried to conceal ; and in the faces of 
both women there was that wearied expression, 
as of minds which are undergoing some painful 
tension. Even Mr. Terry behaved strangely ; 
for that gentleman after lengthening his stir- 
rups by a couple of holes, as carefully shortened 
them again to their original length ; and then 
for lack of something better to do, gravitated 
in an aimless fashion from one horse to another, 
as if studying the habits of these interesting 
quadrupeds. 

What was going on down the coullee, and 
would Dick never come back.^ Mrs. Tre- 
dennis looked at her watch again — half-past 
twelve. How heavily the minutes dragged. 
It seemed an age since the police party left. 

Suddenly, and with an ominous sound that 
paled the cheeks of the women, and caused the 
Mounted Policeman to spring to his feet, a 
couple of shots rang out down the coullee ; 
then another shot was heard — two rifle shots 
and one revolver. In another second a series 
of remarkable echoes were heard. They rattled 
from hillside to hillside, seeming to gain 


Zbc IRovtbvveet /ibountcD ipollce^ hs 

strength as they rolled along, and then dying 
away again in the far distance. 

What an eternity in the minutes that fol- 
lowed. 

******* 
Following one another in Indian file the 
Police party, accompanied by Dick, ascended the 
coiillee, and then keeping as much as possible 
in any slight low-lying ground that the nature 
of the bench permitted, they threaded their 
way across the somewhat exposed plateau. 
No one spoke for a few minutes ; but the 
keen, dark eyes ol the long-haired half-breed 
shifted restlessly around, putting one in mind 
of his near ancester, the primitive red-man in 
the hunt, or on the war-path. When they had 
ridden a matter of a mile or so, they came 
suddenly to steep cut banks, between which 
ran a sluggish stream of water, which trickled 
over slabs of a slate-like formation, and be- 
tween and under a tangled undergrowth. 
From it rose box-elder, wolf- willow, and birch, 
whose golden and bronze tints imparted a rich- 
ness of coloring beautiful to look upon. 

In a little basin overlooking this creek — 
which about half a mile further down joined 
the main coullee — they paused, and held a 
brief council of war, 

Now, Louey,” said the non-com., turning to 
the half-breed, “you want to dismount and 
leave your horse with us. Get down into the 
creek, crawl through the bushes (you can do 


146 ^be 'BcviVe IPla^^rounb* 

this sort of thing better than any of us can) 
and take stock of where the beggars are, and 
where their firearms are placed. For God’s 
sake don’t let any of them see you ! Luckily 
they haven’t a dog. If they should by any 
chance see you ” (and here he lowered his 
voice), “ don’t stand upon ceremony with 
them, or wait for an introduction — they won’t ; 
fire low, and drop your man. It will be your 
only chance, you understand. Lose no time 
in getting back, so that we may know the best 
way of getting the ‘ dead drop ’ upon them, as 
they are rather distinguished gentry, and des- 
perate ones to boot. And give us the call, 
you know, so that we can tell where you are 
in case of accidents.” 

“ You bet, boss ; I am the hackimo ! ” an- 
swered Louey, whose long, gaunt face was by 
no means an unpleasant one. “ No, I sha’n’t 
take any rifle ; better without one ; my re- 
volver’s good enough. Take care of your- 
selves.” 

And with this speech, Louey handed his 
reins over to the constable, crawled to the edge 
of the cut-bank, dropped over it, and disap- 
peared. 

“ He’s the best, or one of the best scouts the 
Mounted Police have,” whispered the non-com. 
to Dick. He is true as steel ; and can knock 
the head off a prairie-chicken with a Winches- 
ter at sixty yards. Listen ! ” 

A curlew down the coullee had evidently 


JLbc IFlortbweet /iRounteD ipoltce* 147 

been disturbed by the breed’s progress, for 
Dick could hear its mournful, eerie cry as it 
flew off piping down the hollow. Dick, how- 
ever, could not see the bird. 

“ Damn the bird ! ” said the trooper, it 
makes an awful row.” He, however, looked 
knowingly at his comrade as he spoke. 

The non-com. smiled as he explained to 
Dick, “ That’s no bird. It’s Louey letting us 
know his whereabouts. Everything is right so 
far.” 

* sjc 

Did you ever hunt with the Australian savage 
in the bush, or the red-man on the North 
American prairies, where there was a strip of 
timber? No? Then follow this scout, the 
descendant of the red-man, to whose inherited 
hunting instincts has been added some of the 
superior intelligence of the white man. 

Now, down on his hands and knees ; then, 
crawling along the ground like some half-human 
reptile (if such an expression is permissible), he 
makes his way through the tangle and under- 
growth, and bears down the coullee. He 
comes to a little knoll ; with a toss of his head 
he shakes his long black hair from in front of 
his eyes, and until it falls over his shoulders. 
Slightly turning his head on one side, and with 
every instinct quickened, he slowly, slowly 
raises his head, till from behind a tussock of 
grass, with one eye only, perhaps, he can see 
over the little knoll. He is evidently satisfied 


148 Zbc Devira iPla^atounD* 

with his survey, for one can almost hear him 
breathing again. Rising to his feet he seeks 
the half-dry bed of the watercourse. Crouch- 
ing down until with his long arms his hands oc- 
casionally help to balance him on the ground, 
he shambles along at an easy jog. His move- 
ments remind one of the ungainly slouch of a 
bear. And now he comes to a thick under- 
growth, and here his movements change again. 
He glides like a shadow ; he crawls like a 
snake ; he steps as gingerly as a dancing master 
might be expected to do upon a carpet strewed 
with eggs ; but never by any chance does he dis- 
turb a bough, or snap a rotten twig ; you can 
hardly hear the rustle, of a leaf. But now a 
wildcat catches sight of him, which, with an an- 
gry snarl, and a rush from its lair in the tangled 
undergrowth, heads off down the coullee. In a 
second, the piercing notes of a curlew rise from 
the place where the scout lies hid. 

* * * * * * 

A couple of rough-looking men on a clear 
spot, about a hundred yards or so further down 
at the junction of the two coullees, are seated 
on the ground. They are in a slight hollow, 
and are watching a camp-kettle boil upon the 
small fire they have made. Their saddles and 
other gear are lying about; and in a small 
pocket, on the opposite side of the coullee, a 
small mob of horses are to be seen feeding. 

They are smoking their pipes and looking 
moodily into the feeble blaze ; evidently their 
thoughts are none of the most pleasant. 


XLbc Northwest /abountcD police* 149 

'• Did you hear that ? ” one of them asks 
suddenly and with an anxious look in his eyes as 
he suddenly lifts his head, and looks at his 
comrade. 

In the great stillness of this lone prairie-land 
they could hear a faint rustling amongst the 
wolf-willows up the little coullee to their right, 
as if some wild animal had been disturbed, and 
was scurrying away through the undergrowth. 
Then the piercing, plaintive cry of a curlew 
rose as if in alarm upon the still air. 

“ You’re gettin’ as narvous as a derned old 
woman ! ” answered his amiable comrade, 
snappishly. He was no other than the notori- 
ous Black Jim. '‘One would think you were 
cornered in some hole in Montana, and the 
Vigilant committee were close alongside choos- 
ing the tree to string you up on. Bern you ! 
haven’t we fooled the boys, and the military 
too, for that matter of it? To-night we’ll pass 
between the police detachments. Willow Creek 
is just over there ; that derned Scotchman is in 
charge, I guess — the devil take him ! ” 

Once more the notes of a curlew rose upon 
the hush of noonday. 

Suddenly a covey of prairie-chickens rose 
right alongside the undergrowth on the edge of 
the coullee, and flew in a straggling, startled 
fashion right past them. 

Darn me, pard ! ” said the man who had 
spoken first, “there’s somethin’ cornin’ down 
that coullee sure, or my name ain’t Solomon. 


ISO ®be 'S>cviVe iPla^^rouuD* 

It may be a coyote, or a jack-rabbit, or it may 
be a bar ; but there’s somethin’, an’ I’m curi- 
ous ! ” 

** You ’ere a d — d curious cuss ! ” was the 
polite rejoinder of Black Jim. 

But Solomon, like his illustrious namesake, 
had come pretty near telling the truth. There 
was somethin’,” but it was neither a “ bar,” 
nor a jack-rabbit — not even a coyote. What- 
ever it was, it threw itself flat upon its face 
until it was almost hidden by overhanging 
sage-bush. It saw the desperado pick up his 
rifle from the ground ; fling it over his arm, and 
stalk leisurely but watchfully forward. In- 
stinctively the '' thing ” that lay hid amongst the 
long grass and brush, moved a brown, sinewy 
hand down towards an old leather pouch, 
drew a revolver from it, and there was an omi- 
nous click.” 

“ Come out, ye warmint, whativer ye are ! ” 
And a lump of rock came crashing down peri- 
lously close to the head of the scout, who was 
the thing ” lying hid in the grass, and now 
had over-reached himself for once in his life, 
and crept too close to his game. But he only 
lay close as a jack-rabbit, and held his breath. 
Suddenly the brass cartridges on his belt 
gleamed in the sunlight, and in another second 
the desperado had seen him. His first impulse 
was to serve him just as he would serve a jack- 
rabbit ; but there might be more of them hid- 
den in the undergrowth, and he might get 
served in the same way, so he simply yelled — 


XLbc *IHortbwc 6 t /nbouutcD police* 151 

“ Put up yer hands ! and covered him with 
his rifle. 

**Pzng!'* was the reply; and dropping his 
rifle with a yell of rage and pain, the desperado, 
forgetful of the danger he was running in ex- 
posing himself for the moment to the fire of his 
opponent, shook a few drops of blood from the 
fingers of his left hand. But, before he could 
pick up his rifle again, the breed had bolted 
like a rabbit back into the undergrowth, and a 
bullet shaved a lock of hair from his left temple, 
as neatly as if it had been done by a razor. 

‘‘The devil!” exclaimed Black Jim’s worthy 
mate as he got behind a rock. 

In another minute he was joined by his illus- 
trious compeer, who had sprung to his feet and 
grabbed his rifle when he had heard his mate's 
voice. He also thought it the better part of 
valor to keep a foot or two of solid rock be- 
tween him and the scrub. 

“ It’s a darned police scout, I’ll be bound ! ” 
he exclaimed. “ Wonder if he’s alone } If so, 
w'e’ll fill him with lead, and cut his throat from 
ear to ear!’’ He positively ground his teeth 
with rage. “ Let’s burn him out. You take 
one side, and I’ll take the other; we’ll soon fix 
him. Hilloa ! what the blazes is that ? A shod 
horse, as I’m a living sinner ! ” 

And they looked the very princes of sinners 
as they stood there. They put one in mind of 
a couple of cornered jackals ; their eyes simply 
glaring with mortification and rage. Then 


1 52 XTbe 'S>cviV 6 plai^^rounb. 

sharply and clearly there rang out the ominous 
words — 

Hands up ; wdve got the drop on you this 
tune ! ” and three deadly-looking rifle barrels 
were levelled straight down upon them. 

“The devil you have! Take that, you 
demned redcoats!” For quick as thought, 
and with that marvelous celerity — that instinct- 
ive sympathy between hand and eye which 
characterizes the movements of gentlemen of 
fortune in the far West, Black Jim had sent a 
bullet through Dick’s shirt, which, like a sharp 
stroke from a razor, grazed his right breast, 
without, however, doing any harm save break- 
ing the skin. Luckily, however, for the non- 
com., and before Black Jim fell shot through 
the shoulder, a bullet, which might have found 
a different billet, glanced harmlessly off the 
great brass buckle on his cartridge belt, and 
embedded itself in the mossy bank behind 
them. 

“Now, then, put your hands up!” yelled 
the non-com. to Jim's worthy mate (he wanted 
to take one alive, if he could not take both) ; 
but that gentleman had already thrown down 
his rifle, and jerked his bleeding hands high 
into the air. 

“ Darn you, you cur ! ” hissed the fallen des- 
perado to his comrade, “ if I could handle my 
gun I’d pump some lead into you ! ” and 
promptly fainted away. 

“ Cover him with your guns, boys, while I 


Zbc 1Rortbwc0t /ftounteb police* 153 

put the bracelets on him,” cried the non-com. 
“ Blow him to h — if he moves,” and sliding 
down the bank he produced the bands of 
polished steel. ‘‘ Now, my hearty — the other 
hand first, if you please. You’ve got to behave 
yourself ; no monkey tricks, or you’ll be in 
Kingdom-come in two shakes of a lamb’s tail. 
Steady ! 

Crir-rr-click-click — and in another minute, 
like Eugene Aram, the gyves were upon his 
wrists.” 

Some more water, boys — dash it on his face. 
Prop the poor devil up. I’m afraid he’ll cheat 
the hangman after all. Perhaps, now, and it 
opens up a strange vein of speculation : as an 
act of Christian charity would I not be doing 
my duty in letting him die ? But, again, justice 
and the law demand that his body be ‘ delivered 
up ’ : an eye for an eye, and a life for a life. 
And I am a servant of the law.” 

He was a cool hand, truly, this soldierly- 
looking trooper, who could calmly philosophize 
while his hands were still literally covered with 
blood. But for all that, he held the head of 
Black Jim as tenderly as any woman would 
have done, and did everything that lay in his 
power to render easy the position of the 
wounded man. 

“ He’ll pull through all right — collar bone in- 
jured. It’s Black Jim himself. Take their 
guns, Pearson ; take out the cartridges and un- 


154 ^be WcviVe pla^^rounb* 

screw the locks for fear of accidents : I’ll search 
the prisoners. You, Louey, round-up the 
horses ; take the best one and ride to Willow 
Creek as fast as you can, and tell them to fetch 
the light spring-wagon and some buffalo robes. 
Tell them to send into Maple Creek for Dr. 

H . And you, sir, you need stop no longer 

here. Thanks for your help. You’re the 
coolest hand I was ever out with — a good shot 
that of yours. Apologize for me to the ladies. 
If you find any of your horses in the mob, take 
them now. I'll see you again. Good-bye.” 

Dick could do no good in waiting longer. 
He found a couple of ranche horses in the mob, 
and drove them in front of him. In a few 
minutes more, Dick had rejoined the party he 
had left about an hour before. 

They looked at him strangely for a second or 
two, and no one spoke. At last Miss Dalton 
said — 

What is the matter with your shirt, Mr. 
Travers.^ — Why, it’s ” 

She did not finish her sentence, but looked at 
the red streak with a spell-bound, horror-stricken 
gaze. Mrs. Tredennis, whose face had grown 
ashy pale as she came towards him, caught him 
quickly by the arm. “ Oh, Dick, you are hurt. 
I know your way of making light of things. 
Let me do something for you.” 

Nonsense,’’ and with a firm but gentle hand 
he disengaged his arm and whispered some- 
thing in her ear : '' It is only the merest scratch 


Zbc IFlortbweet /Iftounteb ipolice* 15s 

— hardly skin deep. Let us go back to the 
ranche. I must take these two horses back ; 
the round-up won't see me to-day. I’ll go on 
to-morrow.” 

He rode back with them to the ranche, and 
as they went he told them a much-diluted 
version of what had occurred. It was a notice- 
able fact that at least two of the ladies of the 
party were strangely silent. 

Dick afterwards heard that Black Jim re- 
covered from the effects of his shot. He 
would, however, by the laws of extradition, be 
handed over to the United States authorities, 
to answer to a graver charge when they had 
done with him in Canada. 

Next morning, and ere the mist had lifted 
from the Medicine Lodge coullee before the 
rays of the sun, Dick was on his way again to 
join the round-up. 


CHAPTER XII. 

LIKE A WORM l’ THE BUD. 

It was a glorious autumn. The round-up 
had been a success, and the stockmen had a 
comparatively easy time of it after it was over. 
Dick Travers, who fully intended to have taken 
his departure from the ranche when the pres- 
sure of work had passed, still found himself 
lingering there. He had once casually sug- 
gested his intention of leaving to Tredennis ; 
but that individual seemed so genuinely hurt 
and surprised at the proposition, that Travers 
had let the matter drop for the time being. 
Tredennis probably thought that Travers found 
it rather dull on the ranche ; and as the latter ^ 
had occasionally some spare time on his hands, 
the goodness of the rancher’s nature showed 
itself. For whenever Mrs. Tredennis or the 
girls made an excursion into the woods, or 
wished to explore some of the dark, pine-clad 
coullees, he would make some excuse and send 
Travers or Jack Holmes instead. Cousin Ned, 
who was an enthusiastic shot, as well as a good 
one, wandered about gun in hand from morn- 
ing till night, bagging innumerable braces of 


Xlfte a mom V tbe 


157 


ducks and prairie-chicken. Mrs. Tredennis 
painted harder than ever, and her work, as if 
the spirit of these old-world, pine-clad crags 
had infected her, became, if anything, more 
striking and weirder in its conception than ever ; 
her landscapes haunted one with a sense of 
loneliness and desolation. But she herself 
seemed to be a living protest to her work. She 
was the life and soul of the party. It was she 
who organized all the pleasant little excursions. 
It was she who sent for the lawn-tennis 
paraphernalia to Winnipeg; and though she 
did not play herself, would send over for 
Travers or Holmes, and while they and the 
girls played, she seemed to derive as much 
pleasure from the game by looking on. Per- 
haps on these occasions Cousin Ned would fall 
asleep at her feet, with a cigar in his mouth, 
tired out with the day’s exertions. Tredennis 
himself seldom showed up at such times. But 
often when Travers went away south on the 
prairie, to look after some stray cattle or horses, 
he would take his Winchester and accompany 
him ; and it was seldom he went home without 
taking either an antelope or black-tailed deer 
with him. As for Jack Holmes, he began to be 
remarkably fastidious, just about this time, con- 
cerning his dress. He discarded the cheap, 
ready-made high-lows he had worn when he 
first came to the ranche, and had sent his 
measure into the nearest town for the best pair 
of pointed boots that the worthy cobbler there 


158 Cbe 'BcviVe HMai^^rounb* 

could furnish him with. He even discarded 
the fringed and beaded buckskin shirt he had 
at first affected, and into the buying of which 
he had been promptly swindled by Billie, and 
wore a “ Crimean ” instead, of the most ap- 
proved texture and pattern. Perhaps the 
younger of the two Dalton girls could have told 
how it was that the Sage, about this time, in- 
stead of discussing social problems and ex- 
patiating upon things in general, to the edifica- 
tion and amusement of his audience, as was his 
wont, became unaccountably quiet and stupid, 
and behaved in a more or less idiotic fashion, 
for one of his otherwise eminently practical turn 
of mind. As for Dick, there came a subtle 
change over him, his manner became pre- 
occupied, and sometimes he surprised his com- 
rades not a little when they chanced to accom- 
pany him on his long rides, by the taciturn or 
cynical air he would suddenly adopt, when there 
was really no occasion in the world that he 
should do so. But when evening came, his de- 
meanor would undergo another change, and he 
would find his way over to the rancher’s house, 
when, if he did not play tennis— which he had 
somewhat given up of late— he might be found 
sitting at the feet of Mrs. Tredennis, who 
seemed to find in him a congenial companion. 
When these evenings were over, the Sage 
noticed, that if he did not go out for a long 
walk by himself before retiring, he would sit in 
the men’s quarters in the dark, and neither 


ILifte a Morm V tbe 159 

spoke nor seemed to care for the companion- 
ship of any one. 

On one of these occasions, when Reynolds 
and Billie had retired to rest, and Holmes lay 
awake in his berth, watching the lonely figure 
of his comrade as he sat silently in the dusk, 
looking out upon the night, he saw him start 
up suddenly and pace the room excitedly but 
noiselessly. “ What is up, I wonder, now ? ” 
said the Sage to himself. Sometimes he no- 
ticed that Travers would pause in his walk, 
and talk under his breath. He was exercised 
over something : that something, the Sage 
knew had been exercising him a good deal of 
late. The Sage was about to doze off again, 
with a confused idea that he was somehow or 
other lost in a dark wood, and was watching 
the shadow of a great pine-tree, when suddenly 
the pine-tree took human shape and began mut- 
tering to itself. In an instant he was wide 
awake, and his senses were abnormally acute. 
Listen, he had to ; there was no help for it. 

“ The end cannot be far off,” was what Tra- 
vers said, as if speaking to some one, ‘‘ for you 
are drawing me towards you again, as you 
drew me before — and I am worse than mad. 
There’s a black night coming for you and me, 
Chrissie ; this cannot go on for ever ! ” 

Holmes held his breath, and a sickening light 
dawned upon him : but there was something 
beyond it all that he could not fathom. Dick 
had now stopped in his walk, and partially un- 


i6o ^be 'S>cviV6 ©la^^rounb* 

dressing, threw himself on his bed, where 
Holmes, from whom all sleep was banished 
now, heard him turn restlessly again and again, 
from one side to another, until the grey dawn 
broke. 

It was late in the fall now, perhaps a little 
too late to make an excursion of the kind, but 
it was to be their last grand trip preparatory to 
the little party breaking up, and taking their 
way eastward, and the preparations for the 
same were complete and extensive. The 
nights were cold enough to warrant a fire, and 
the hectic Indian summer had run perilously 
far into what in England would be considered 
a winter month ; but the days were bright and 
pleasant. It was the beau-ideal time for hunt- 
ing — only a fall, a very slight fall of snow, 
could improve matters in this respect — and the 
antelope, the black-tail, [and the bear, seemed 
plentiful. Tredennis with characteristic self- 
ishness, or thoughtlessness, wherever sport was 
concerned, had put off this excursion from day 
to day, to ensure the better sport. He was 
now so engrossed with his guns and filling 
cartridges, that he had little time to attend to 
the other preparations. 

He had simply told Travers, to make out a 
list of what he would require, and given him 
carte-bla7tche to get the same. 

We’ll take along Reynolds and Holmes,” 
he said, '' they can drive a team ; of course 
Briggs will come and do the cooking. Your- 


%i\{C a Wovm V the i6i 

self, Ned, and I can make ourselves generally 
useful, ril lend you a rifle ; but I should like 
if you would also manage to give the ladies a 
little of your company now and again ; social 
intercourse seems to be a necessity of their ex- 
istence.” 

But MacMillan viewed all these preparations 
with a very sober face ; his practical Scotch 
temperament weighed certain contingencies 
which the others did not dream of. 

“ It’s late in the fall,” he said, “ and none of 
you knows how suddenly changes come on in 
this country. Why, to-day it may be like a day 
in June, and to-morrow, without any warning 
whatever, a blizzard (he called it a ‘ bleezard ’) 
comes on, that may last for days, freezing every 
living thing that is caught in it. Whatever you 
do, take extra socks and moccasins with you, 
mitts, and your heavy fur coats. Goodness 
knows, you may require them. ” 

Travers knew only too well the truth of what 
the Scotsman said ; but the others merely 
laughed. They were accustomed to the provisos 
of the farseeing Scot. 

Holmes was delighted with the prospects of 
the excursion ; more particularly as a certain 
young lady was to ride beside him on the front 
seat of the light spring-wagon. But Dick 
Travers seemed anything but delighted with 
the prospects of the trip. He had spoken to 
Tredennis, and tried to persuade that individual 
to take MacMillan or Billie, instead ; but he 


i62 XLbc 'BcviVe iPla^arouuD* 

would not listen to this proposition, Tredennis, 
indeed, felt somewhat sore about his evident 
reluctance to accompany the party, and men- 
tioned the subject to his wife, with a vague 
idea that she might throw some light upon the 
subject. 

“ I thought he would only have been too 
glad to come,” he had said. “ I’m not so badly 
olf that I need treat Travers and Holmes like 
two ordinary employees. They have earned a 
good holiday : to tell the truth, I am only too 
glad to get fellows like them that we can asso- 
ciate with, instead of having to take men of 
Billie*s stamp, who would scare us every time 
they opened their mouths. I wonder what the 
matter can be with Travers? ” 

She was sitting looking out upon the now 
grey prairie with the significant streak of black- 
ness in the background — the effects of the fire 
—and had been reading Ships that Pass in the 
Night.” But when her husband spoke she had 
suddenly stopped reading, and held the book as 
before, but so as to look over the top of it. A 
slight heightening of color had at first crept 
into her cheeks ; then as suddenly there was a 
slight contraction of her arched eyebrows ; she 
became strangely pale, and there was a strange 
fixedness in her gaze. But her husband saw 
none of these changes. To tell the truth, he 
might have seen, and never have given them a 
thought. When she spoke it was evident there 
was a shade of irritation in her voice, though 
she tried to speak unconcernedly. 


%i\{c a motrn V tbe JSuD. 163 

1 somehow think,” she answered, “ that 
your friend is somewhat difficult to please. 
Why not let him stop at the ranche ? I am sure 
we could get on well without him. It appears 
to me that he doesn't know his own mind two 
minutes at a stretch.” 

There was the same intensity in her gaze, 
and she did not move, though her breath came 
more quickly, and her bosom heaved strangely. 
There was even a touch of pique in her voice — 
more than the occasion would seem to call for. 
Tom looked up quickly and spoke — 

“ I think, Chrissie, you’re rather hard upon 
poor Travers — I really don’t think you do him 
justice. I noticed that when you saw him for 
the first time, you did not seem to take to him 
— you took to the other chap ; but Travers is 
worth a dozen of such men as Holmes. I 
wouldn’t wonder if the poor fellow has made a 
mess of his life at one time or another, and 
sometimes feels a little hipped about it. Any- 
how, MacMillan says he has done the work of 
three men since he has been here, and I’m go- 
ing to take him with us in spite of himself. 
Amy and Kate should rouse him up ; but for 
my sake be civil to him, if not for his own ! ” 

He rose and went away without waiting for 
her to comment upon this speech, and without 
even looking at her. 

When he had gone, she rose quickly from 
her seat and looked strangely around her. She 
clasped her hands behind her head, and there 


i 64 Tlbe lS>cviVe iPla^^rounD* 

was a look of hopeless misery in her eyes. 
Then she broke into a laugh that was piteous 
in its very bitterness, and cried — 

“ For j^our sake indeed ! and then she 
paused a minute. “ But oh ! Dick, what about 
yours ? ” she added passionately, and hurried 
from the room. 

She entered her bedroom, and locking the 
door, threw herself upon a couch, and cried as 
if her heart would break. 

Is, or is not a woman's mind a complex 
thing ? 


CHAPTER XIII. 


THAT LAND WHERE NOBODY LIVES. 

The party was off at last, and to say the 
least of it, it was a merry one. The morning 
was clear and frosty — one of those glorious 
days one only finds late in the fall, the nearer 
one gets to the Rockies ; or on a winter’s morn- 
ing on the Blue Mountains in New South Wales 
(how one’s heart goes out to those beautiful 
Blue Mountains !). 

The ladies had on warm and smart Tweed 
dresses. Jack Holmes looked at least three 
inches taller as he sat on the high spring- 
wagon, talking to a fair-haired young lady who 
sat beside him. Mrs. Tredennis and the elder 
of the two Dalton girls rode under the rather 
dubious protection of Cousin Ned. Tredennis 
and Travers rode on ahead as a sort of ad- 
vanced guard and pilotage for the two wagons ; 
one of which Reynolds drove, and which con- 
tained the important Briggs and the camping- 
out paraphernalia. Away they went over the 
withered grass, and pursuing no trail ; for in- 
deed in No-Man’s Land, into which they were 
about to enter, there were no trails. In the old 


i66 Zbc WcviVe pla^^tounD* 

days, doubtless, this wild part of the country 
could tell of many a bloody tale of Indian war- 
fare, stranger than fiction generally furnishes 
us with. But now this land lay silent and 
lonely : in its very sense of the limitless it was 
pathetic. What a great power this civilization 
of ours must have been to subdue and rob this 
“ Great American Desert ” of its natural deni- 
zens, and change the natural order of things, 
until all that is left to give these prairies a fit- 
ting life is a few broken bands of predatory In- 
dians, and a few head of antelope. But this is, 
comparatively speaking, one of the wild, un- 
known spots, and to a certain extent the home 
of primitive Nature ; and there is always a 
charm about that which has a sense of wildness, 
and where human life is not. 

Away they rattle ; now, down the steep 
banks of some coullee ; then, toiling up the op- 
posite bank ; again, bowling along over a lawn- 
like stretch of prairie ; but ever with a sharp 
look-out for badger-holes and such like dan- 
gers. 

At noon they drive into Many Berries Creek, 
and down a steep incline into a thick clump of 
cotton-wood trees and bastard-maple. Then 
what a merry time of it they had to be sure, 
when the horses had been picketed out, and 
they set about getting the lunch ready. It per- 
haps did not matter a great deal after all, if 
Jack Holmes and a certain young lady did keep 
them waiting some considerable time for a ket- 


ttbat Xanb where IFloboD^ %ivce, 167 

tleful of water — it was a joint-stock affair — for 
time was not so remarkably precious just then. 
True, it might have mattered had they both 
been drowned (and such a catastrophe was very 
nearly happening). For when they went down 
to dip the kettle they both kept a firm hold of 
it, and the result was that they each took a step 
into the shelving pool, but arrested further 
progress just in time. Then, on going up the 
bank, they spilt that kettle of water between 
them, and had to go down again to the pool to 
repeat their innocent little comedy. True to 
the old adage that too many cooks spoil the 
broth, when they all tried to be of some assist- 
ance in getting lunch ready, the result was a 
most delightful confusion. Perhaps the one 
who contributed most to this state of affairs 
was Cousin Ned, who kept continually getting 
in every one’s jway, and shifting things about 
after they were put in proper order, under the 
delusion that he was rendering invaluable as- 
sistance. In fact, when the kettle had boiled, 
the watchful Briggs stopped him in the act of 
putting a large handful of salt into it, under the 
impression that it was sugar, and that he was 
about to sweeten the tea. After this, Briggs 
kept one eye on the provisions and another on 
Mr. Terry, who, somewhat over-awed by the 
air of importance and mystery that Briggs as- 
sumed for the occasion, took a back seat for 
some little time. But a little later, to keep up 
the delusion of his usefulness, he blunted a 


i68 XLbc IDcviVe iPlai^grounD* 

carving-knife in attempting to open a can of 
tomatoes with it. Then the lynx-eyed Briggs 
offered him a can-opener, and it was the great- 
est blow of all to him ; for Ned never having 
seen or heard of such a thing in his life before, 
stared at it with a stony irrecognition. This 
was indeed a triumph to Briggs. 

Mrs. Tredennis for a few days before the start 
did not seem to be in the best of spirits. It 
was noticed that she was rather pale and had a 
listless air ; and then a sudden change came 
over her. At first her manner towards Travers, 
when he had found it positively necessary to 
talk to her, had been of a frank and kindly char- 
acter ; she asked his advice in regard to certain 
preparations, and acted upon his suggestions. 
And then her manner suddenly changed; for 
while she did not actually seem to avoid him, 
there was a trace of petulance in her manner 
that accorded but strangely with one of her 
even temperament. Dick thought he must 
have done something that had given her 
offence ; for her bearing towards him was that 
of one who has suffered some slight and strives 
to conceal it, but cannot. But on this particu- 
lar day nothing but good-will and harmony 
prevailed. Their appetites were sharpened by 
the ride and the keen prairie air, and they made 
a hearty meal. Then, after the men had 
assisted in clearing away, and Cousin Ned suc- 
ceeded in breaking a couple of plates (still 
under the delusion that he was rendering inval- 


^bat ILanD where Irtobob^ %ivce. 169 

uable assistance), the men fed their horses — 
they were cool now — and had a smoke. Then 
stow away and hitch up again, and away over 
the rolling prairie. 

And now the scenery became of a more 
broken and wilder character, and there were 
striking patches of what was known as “ Bad 
Lands.” That is, small strips of country on 
which nothing grew, and from which rose great 
cone-like mounds of mud or sand, which 
sparkled with a mica-like substance. 

When Tredennis had been riding on ahead 
with Dick, they had come right on to a band of 
antelope ; for a second the timid, startled crea- 
tures stood stock still with craned necks ; one 
of them even took a few steps forward : for the 
antelope is an inquisitive animal, and his curi- 
osity often costs him dearly. Quick as thought, 
Tredennis lifted his rifle from across the horn 
of his saddle on which it rested, and aimed at 
the foremost animal — ping ! went his rifle, and 
in another second it dropped like a stone. 

“ Antelope steak for supper,” he cried, as he 
jumped down and bled it. 

Towards evening they pulled down into a 
beautifully wooded coullee, and selecting a 
shady, sheltered nook, prepared to camp for the 
night. 

Soon the horses were picketed and attended 
to ; three good-sized tents were pitched ; a 
huge fire was burning cheerily, and Briggs was 
cooking savory venison steaks upon it. How- 


170 tTbe 2)ev>ir9 iPla^atounb^ 

ever, the novelty and pride of his position were 
marred by the vision of Cousin Ned, ransack- 
ing and upsetting various articles of a delicate 
and perishable nature in a huge wicker basket, 
in a vain attempt to find some culinary article, 
the nature of which, and the purpose for which 
it was wanted, Ned having promptly forgotten 
as soon as he had begun his search. 

Travers had gone down to the bed of the 
creek, by an old buffalo pad, to where there 
was a large water-hole ; and in the sands of the 
creek he saw something that for the second 
startled him, and made him glance sharply 
around. It was the tracks of a huge bear — 
great, squat tracks, and the soft, pliant sand 
had taken a true and distinct impression of the 
foot. It had evidently been traveling down the 
creek ; but to tell within a day or two when it 
had gone down, would have required an Indian 
or an Australian black-tracker to decide. Tra- 
vers filled the water pails he had taken down 
with him, and took them up again to the camp ; 
he said nothing to the others of what he had 
seen, but taking Tredennis aside, he told him 
about the tracks. The upshot of it was, that 
the latter, arming Reynolds and Dick with an 
express rifle apiece, started down the creek on 
the tracks of the bear. But after following them 
up on horseback for a couple of miles or so, 
they concluded to turn. At least there was no 
danger of Bruin lurking in their immediate vicin- 
ity and stampeding their horses. The ladies 


Zbnt XauD where IFloboh^ %ivce. 17 1 

were shown the tracks of the “ real, live bear 
and Cousin Ned, having been assured that it 
was ail nonsense about the inconvenient habits 
bears have of prowling round at midnight with 
criminal intent, entering tents they have no 
business to, and pulling the clothes off the 
sleepers, they sat down to supper. 

It was one of the pleasantest of meals ; they 
all sat around on the ground just as they 
pleased. There was no sitting below the salt. 
Reynolds, the silent, with his quiet, dry humor, 
was taken in hand by the elder of the two Dal- 
ton girls — whom at first he had regarded with 
considerable awe — and under her spell actually 
began to enjoy himself. There were no mos- 
quitoes or flies to annoy them now, the touch of 
frost in the evenings had banished them. And 
now it began to get cold. In the world’s eternal 
dome the stars gleamed out clearly and sharply. 
They had donned their warmest upper garments, 
and began to think that the Scot was a pretty 
sensible fellow after all, when he had said they 
would require them. They built a huge fire and 
sat around it ; then one of the Dalton girls pro- 
duced a violin case and proved herself an ac- 
complished musician ; and to the intense 
astonishment of Briggs, Cousin Ned developed 
a very fine tenor voice. Briggs came to the 
conclusion that Providence always furnished a 
man with some compensating quality, no matter 
what his defects were. Then ensued a verita- 
ble open-air concert. The fire burned up, and 


172 ^be 'BcvWb plaMtounb* 

the shadows under the great cotton-wood trees 
took on an inky blackness. The men enjoyed 
their pipes as they seldom did. Then the elder 
of the two girls discovered that, as Reynolds 
himself admitted, he did play a little now and 
again.*' Then, of course, he must needs play. 

He modestly took the violin, and, lo ! they ex- 
perienced a revelation ; it was the picturesque 
element of old Canada. 

Now it was some voyageur’s song, sung by 
some musical French Canadian as he sat in the 
bow of a birch canoe, paddle in hand, and 
watched with a keen, unwavering eye the ap- 
proaching rapids. And then there came a 
change. Surely it was a trapper’s or a lumberer’s 
camp in the dark pine woods. How the bright, 
ruddy light from the open shanty windows 
gleamed out upon the dark night and across the 
winter’s snow, until it sparkled' like a sheet of 
silver. And look, and listen I There is a 
motley crew inside, mostly dark-haired and 
dark-eyed. Perhaps there is among them a 
hint of Indian blood. Some are volatile and 
excitable, hinting at a Gallic origin. Some wear 
great red stockings reaching over the knees, 
and buckskin shirts covered with a mosaic of 
gaudy bead-work, and with heavy drooping 
fringes. They are dancing some infectious fan- 
tasia. Now it is the Red River jig. How they 
abandon themselves to it, and how their feet 
twinkle ! Now it is that indescribable musical 
joke without beginning or ending — the Arkan- 


ttbat Xanb where %ivcB. 173 

sas Traveler — with its catching, foot-stirring mel- 
ody. There is an air of abandon, barbarism and 
freedom, permeated with a picturesqueness about 
the whole scene, that is positively fascinating. 

The music stops, and the picture vanishes. 

It was Mrs. Tredennis who first broke the 
silence. Strangely enough, she spoke of some- 
thing that had just been running in the minds 
of the others. 

But, perhaps after all, that is not strange 
which is always happening. 

Tom,*' she said to her husband, we must 
not go back to England, without getting a 
glimpse of picturesque Canada. The prairies 
are all very well, but we must see a trader’s post 
and a lumberer’s camp.” 

Then there was another interruption, some- 
thing very like the angr}" snarl of a wild animal 
rose in the stillness that ensued after Mrs. Tre- 
dennis’s speech. What about that bear whose 
tracks they had seen going down the creek ? 
Briggs, who had been lying somewhat outside 
the circle, jumped in alarm to his feet, and 
with an exclamation of fear. 

But it was only his deU noir. Cousin Ned, 
who had fallen asleep ; and with his head hang- 
ing backwards over a log, seemed to be invit- 
ing death by strangulation. 

Some one put the poor boy to bed,” said 
Mrs. Tredennis, with a mock air of tenderness 
in her voice, and the innate love of fun betray- 
ing itself in her speech. 


174 tTbe 2)e\?ir0 ©la^Qtounb^ 

No sooner said than done. Tredennis and 
Dick seized the little man by the head and heels, 
and carried him, remonstrating and struggling, 
to the tent, where they deposited him on his 
roll of bedding, amid the laughter and “ good- 
nights ” of the rest of the party. 


CHAPTER XIV. 


WHERE THE DEVIL AMUSES HIMSELF. 

They camped in that sheltered nook for a 
couple of days. Tredennis, and Cousin Ned 
getting some good shooting, and the ladies 
never seeming tired of exploring the cavern-like 
recesses of the creek bottom under the over- 
hanging cut-banks, roofed in with the dense 
tangle of boughs and creepers. They had dis- 
covered an Indian grave ; and in a coullee away 
out on the open prairie between two creeks — 
which explained why it had escaped the prairie 
fires — they came upon a striking memento of 
the Wild West, 

There stood the wreck of a wagon from 
which two of the wheels had dropped, and 
tilted in air. It was the very scare-crow of 
a wagon ; for its loosened boards, which were 
bleached to a dingy brown, flapped eerily in the 
wind, and they were literally riddled with 
bullets. The tragic tale pertaining to it was 
plain as an open book. For near it lay a 
couple of incomplete skeletons, and the barrel 
and stock of an old rifle ; under the wagon and 


176 Zbc WcviVe ©la^atounD* 

around it were strewed the empty shells of car- 
tridges. 

Better sit down a little way off, and let me 
look round,” said Travers, to Mrs. Tredennis 
and the two girls, when he saw the ghastly re- 
mains of what had once been human beings. 

They moved a little distance off, and sat 
down ; but still turned to look upon the pathetic 
sight, as if fascinated by such a striking pict- 
ure from the storehouse of the past. It was a 
strange thing to think, that probably the last 
eyes of a white man who had gazed upon the 
scene of this tragedy, had been the dying eyes 
of these poor emblems of mortality themselves. 
As with grim determination, not perhaps un- 
mixed with a pang of agony — for life is sweet 
— they “ stood off,” the circling, yelling red 
fiends, until they sank mortally wounded. 

Travers looked around him. 

*‘The Indians, of course, must have sur- 
rounded them ; ” he said. “ I think there is one 
spot in particular where they must have got in 
their work.” 

He went to a little hillock, covered with sage- 
bush, about a hundred yards off. And behind 
it was, as he had thought, a pile of empty car- 
tridge shells. 

“ They were probably traders,” Dick contin- 
ued, no matter what they sold — it might have 
been whiskey or blankets, for all one can tell — 
but they were not the first victims of those 
Indians, who must have got their weapons and 


Mbere tbc 2 )evil Bmuse^ Ibimeelt 177 

cartridges from somewhere other than a trad- 
ing-post. Indians don’t generally have Win- 
chesters.” 

“ I should like to sketch that wagon,” Mrs. 
Tredennis remarked, looking at it with a con- 
templative air ; “ there is such an air of sugges- 
tion about the whole scene.” 

Her eyes turned from it and met those of 
Dick who was watching her curiously. He 
had spoken but little to her these last few days. 

You seem to have a fancy for anything of 
this nature,” he remarked, quietly, with a 
forced calmness in his voice ; and as if what he 
said were only intended for her ears. He 
looked into her eyes as he continued : A 

vivisectionist talks of a ‘ beautiful ’ operation, 
just as you seem to enjoy anything that savors 
of a premature and unnatural death. ” 

One of the girls looked up sharply. W as it 
grim humor or some partially revealed senti- 
ment, that this handsome, sad-eyed cynic in- 
dulged in.^ Mrs. Tredennis turned her face 
away from him, but made no reply to this 
strange speech, divining the sentiments that 
had actuated it. But it was evident from her 
quiet, but thoughtful, demeanor on the walk 
back to camp, that his words had cut her 
deeply. 

That evening there was a cold leaden hue in 
the sky, and the stars did not shine out as 
brightly as usual, which evidently caused Rey- 
nolds not a little uneasiness. But then, as he 


173 XLbc lS>cviV6 iPla^grounD* 

remarked to Cousin Ned, when asked by that 
individual what it meant, Not being a prophet, 
he could not exactly say. If anything at all, it 
meant snow.’' For the changes in these lati- 
tudes are so sudden, and come on with so 
little warning, that it is impossible even for an 
Indian to forecast a change until it has regu- 
larly set in. To those who have been accus- 
tomed to the steady-going, old-fashioned, jog- 
trot style of the British climate, where one can 
forecast with tolerable accuracy twenty-four 
hours beforehand what sort of weather one is 
to enjoy, such a condition of things is difficult 
to understand. In nine cases out of ten, the 
resident in the Northwest Territories from the 
Old World, in spite of many lessons, will not 
understand, and is caught in the lurch. 

Next morning, in spite of the ominous grey- 
ness in the northern sky, the weather was pleas- 
ant and sunny enough, and the party was 
evidently inclined to chaff Reynolds, in regard 
to his prognostications of the night before. 

“ I am inclined to think you are a Scotsman, 
and take after MacMillan,” said Mrs. Treden- 
nis, merrily. “ The law of association is too 
strong to permit of my enjoyment being 
damped by anticipating such a contingency as 
a snow-storm.” 

“ Blizzard, ” quietly corrected Reynolds. “ My 
parents were Scotch, and I don’t want to 
establish a reputation as a croaker ; but I 
should not advise you to go out riding very far, 


Mbere tbe Bcvtl Hmueea l)im0elf* 179 

without strapping on your great-coat behind 
the saddle. I have seen many a blizzard long 
before this time of the year. IVe got to follow 
up some tracks I noticed yesterday going east- 
ward — some horses we lost a couple of months 
ago I wouldn’t wonder — but I know I’m not 
going out without moccasins, mitts, and fur cap 
in my wallet.” 

Tredennis and Cousin Ned had arranged to 
go back north a few miles on foot, to look for a 
band of antelope they had seen on the previous 
day. Mrs. Tredennis, taking some sketching 
materials with her, and the Dalton girls with 
a well-stocked picnic-basket, and with Jack 
Holmes officiating as driver, were to take the 
light spring-wagon and go towards Many 
Berries Creek. Briggs was to remain in camp, 
an arrangement which suited that gentleman 
only too well, as he declared in confidence to 
Reynolds, that it took at least a couple of hours 
every morning to straighten up things in camp, 
after Cousin Ned had been seized with one of 
his fits of making himself generally useful ” 
the night before. Dick, who had declined the 
invitation of Tredennis and Cousin Ned to go 
out shooting with them, was about to accom- 
pany Reynolds, and follow up the tracks of the 
strange horses, when Tredennis stopped him. 

I say, Travers, by Jove, you know, this is 
too bad!” remarked the worthy Tom. ‘‘You 
can hunt horses any time. We came out for a 
picnic ; let the horses go. If you can’t come 


i8o ^bc WcviVe iPla^srounD* 

out shooting with Terry and me, you ought at 
least to accompany the ladies. Fancy poor 
Holmes, an unprotected male, alone with three 
of them ! You ought to stand by a comrade 
better than that. Oblige me, like a good fel- 
low, by going with them. I’m always afraid 
Mrs. Tredennis or the girls, will be straying 
away in that broken country and losing them- 
selves,” 

“ I believe you’re right,” said Dick ; “ but I 
have such a poor opinion of myself in a social 
capacity, that I always think I’m better out of 
the way.” 

Nonsense, man ; you make too little of 
yourself. I know that Mrs. Tredennis for one 
will be glad to have you with her ; she values 
very highly your opinion upon art — a thing that 
I know as much about as it knows about me — 
and you might be in a position to render her 
some assistance. Well — until dinner time.” 

Honest Tom, surely you are artless ; for 
even that art which you have of rendering 
others happy, strangers though they be to you, 
is no art, for it is simply your natural self — 
that quality which is superior to wealth or birth, 
and stamps Nature’s gentleman. 

Travers rode on after the light spring-wagon, 
and was received with a running fire of banter 
by the girls. 

‘‘ I knew he could not stay away,” said one. 

‘‘ I thought he was reserving himself as a 
pleasant surprise,” said the other. 


TOibere tbe Devil Bmujaee Ibimself* iSi 


But there was a third, who, whatever she 
may have thought, betrayed no recognition of 
his presence. 

“ Let us go south instead of west,” said Mrs. 
Tredennis at length, “ into that country which 
must necessarily be delightful, since they call it 
‘ The Bad Lands’ : there is indefinite suggestion 
about the name. Do you think you could pilot 
us there, Mr. Travers ? ” 

“ I think I could, Mrs. Tredennis, if you 
wouldn’t mind being jolted a little in the wagon. 
I’ll go ahead and pick out the way. There’s a 
queer corner several miles south of this that I 
think would interest you. ‘ The Devil’s Play- 
ground,’ I call it. Look out for the springs of 
the wagon. Jack ! ” 

Away they rattled down the creek until they 
came to the coullee, which came in from the 
south ; they crossed the creek and went up it ; 
then for three or four miles they gradually as- 
cended a bench or inclined plane. This was, 
comparatively speaking, easy work ; then the 
country became more broken again. 

Suddenly, without any warning, they carUe to 
the brink of a great gulch, and a weird sight 
burst upon them. Mrs. Tredennis uttered an 
exclamation of delight and wonder, and, with 
parted lips and sparkling eyes, took in the 
scene with the appreciation that only an artistic 
temperament can feel. Some three or four 
hundred feet beneath them, a great valley 
stretched from east to west. No green banks 


i82 XLbc Devire iPla^grounD* 

or bosky undergrowth fringed its bottom ; but 
great unseemly scarred and jagged sides of 
chocolate-colored clay, intersected by jet black 
seams and yellow and pink, with here and there 
patches of alkali showing dazzling white as the 
wintry sun shone upon it. Huge pillar-like 
masses of clay rose like gigantic mushrooms 
from the bed of the valley : some were perfectly 
round and tapered towards their summits, 
resembling sugar-loaves, so sprinkled were they 
by a gleaming mica-like substance ; and others 
again were ungainly and bulbous shaped. 
Some resembled huge frogs, or uncouth antedi- 
luvian monsters. The valley, with its gaudy 
coloring, chocolate-colored background, and 
grey, wintry sky shining upon it, resembled the 
playground of a race of Titans, who, after 
modelling all manner of grotesque and weird 
imaginings in clay, and baking and painting 
them with the pigments from the crucible of 
mother Nature, had suddenly deserted it, and 
left their uncouth playthings behind them to 
astonish a new race of beings. It required no 
stretch of imagination to name these shapes. 
There was a group of toad-stools — gigantic 
ones truly, but still toad-stools. And there, 
hard by, was a wicked and leering old toad, 
green with age. Here was a winged dragon ; 
and there an excrescence resembling some 
loathly saurian, with its mouth all agape, crawl- 
ing out of a slimy pool. There was an animal 
resembling an elephant or a dinotherium ; and 


TKUbcre tbc Devil Bmueee *tt)im9elt 183 

here, surely, was a bird which resembled the 
extinct moa, the giant frame of which is found 
on the Australian coast. It was a weird play- 
ground, and suggested weirder thoughts. 

For a few minutes no one spoke. Truly, 
when man is face to face with Nature’s won- 
ders, he realizes how commonplace and puny, 
after all, are the greatest of man’s works. The 
pyramids and the sphinx, set down on this 
Titan’s playground, would only have added a 
little variety to this collection of monstrosi- 
ties. 

“ It is difficult to express one’s thoughts 
properly with regard to such a scene,” Mrs. 
Tredennis said slowly, as she gazed with a 
thoughtful look upon the outr^ sight. “ If one 
attempted to put these colors on canvas, the 
public would resent it as an insult to their intel- 
ligence, and the critics would say I had gone 
mad. A Dore might make a sketch of it in 
some neutral tints, and call it by some fanciful 
name, such as ‘ The Gateway of the Inferno,’ or 
‘A Landscape from another World,’ and it 
might excite the passing love of the world in the 
wonderful. But no one would believe for an 
instant that such a place ever existed. With all 
due deference to Dor6 for having mentioned his 
name in connection with my intentions, I think 
I should like a memento of this place. Mr. 
Holmes, if you will let me get off here, you can 
drive on to where you like ; and you can either 
pick me up on your way back, or, if I finish this 


i 84 ^Tbe 'BcviVe plai^^tounD* 

sketch in time, I shall come on to where you are 
camped.” 

There was some demur about this ; but as a 
slight wind had sprung up, which was not 
exactly mild, and as they could not keep the 
horses long in it on that exposed plateau, it was 
arranged that Jack Holmes and the girls should 
continue their course along the brow of the 
hillside, then, descending it, camp on the bottom, 
near a spot where there was a clump of timber. 
They had heard of a place where there was a 
fossilized bank of shells somewhere in the neigh- 
borhood, and they would have a search for it, 
and try to secure some specimens. Mrs. Tre- 
dennis alighted, and they handed out her sketch- 
ing materials. Dick Travers, who could not in 
common politeness leave, was getting his picket- 
rope out of the wagon, when Mrs. Tredennis 
stopped him, saying that he had better pilot the 
others down to the bottom first, and picket out 
his horse with theirs. Besides, they might not 
be able to discover the fossils without his help. 
She did not mind being left alone ; her sketch 
would soon be finished. She would follow up 
the wagon tracks, and perhaps after all, she 
might be in time to join them at lunch, although 
it was immaterial whether she got any or not. 

Whatever the others thought about the ready 
acquiescence of Dick to this proposal, he neither 
knew nor cared. He only felt that he would 
not have pressed his services upon her just then 
for the sake of the good opinion of the world 


TKabere tbe 'Bcvii Bmuaca IbimeclU 185 

at large ; but still he felt unaccountably piqued. 
Without further parley, he rode on ahead of the 
wagon, and called on them to follow him. 
They then descended a steep incline, and bowl- 
ing over a mile or two of hard, dry clay, soon 
arrived at the clump of wolf-willow and maple 
which fringed the creek at the mouth of the 
“ Bad Valley,” as it was called. They un- 
hitched, and picketing out the horses on a patch 
of grass, prepared to start out in quest of the 
bank of shells. 


CHAPTER XV. 


HIS SATANIC MAJESTY MAKES A MOVE. 

By this time a rather remarkable change had 
come over the weather. The sky now assumed 
a dull, leaden hue ; and away to the north 
there was an ominous shadow, that made one 
think of winter to look at it. Dick did not al- 
together like the look of that shadow. Miss 
Dalton, who was a pretty, sensible, and agree- 
able girl, was waiting for him to be her com- 
panion to that great mudbank where the fossil- 
ized remains of strange shells and stranger fish 
(in that they seemed to be all body and no 
head) of a bygone and forgotten age, held out 
a veritable museum of wonders. She was a 
girl that any man might have been proud to 
walk alongside of ; in her smart grey tailor- 
made dress and natty hat, she was a rare 
anomaly in that wild No-Man’s Land. But 
Dick, in spite of himself, thought of something 
else ; he pictured some one sitting all alone up 
the valley on the brow of the cliff, sketching 
the scene beneath her. Truly, she had alien- 
ated his sympathy by her heartless conduct in 
the past ; but then, he had at one time loved 


1 bl 6 Satanic /iftajeeti^ /Iftaftes a ISsovc. 187 

her, and he could not altogether crush the re- 
membrance of that love. He had cursed him- 
self over and over again for his folly, in not be- 
ing able to attain that state of mind in which 
he might be able to look upon her with utter 
indifference, if not with contempt. But still, 
he was one of those weak mortals, that strong- 
minded persons — who are blessed in that they 
can sacrifice heart to head when required — 
designate as one of the soft ones ” ; and now 
he was about to sacrifice the promptings of 
prudence to his consideration for others. Poor 
Dick, he was perfectly sincere. 

I don’t like the look of that sky,” he re- 
marked ; ‘'lam very sorry I can’t go with you, 
for I think I shall have to go back and look af- 
ter Mrs. Tredennis : one can get so easily lost 
in that broken country. I should not have left 
her, no matter what she said. You can’t miss 
the bank of fossils if you follow right down 
this side of the creek; in the meantime. I’m 
afraid I must leave you.” 

“ And won’t you take anybody with you ? ” 
asked the fair girl, looking upon him with an 
engaging entreaty that would have settled the 
matter with most men right away. Then, see 
ing him hesitate, her mood changed, and she 
added, as the light somewhat left her eyes, and 
the smile died upon her lips, but still pleasantly, 
“ Or, no, perhaps I’d better turn fossil-hunter; 
five is an awkward number for a picnic, any- 
how.” 


i88 ^be WcviVe iPla^gtounO* 

Nonsense," laughed Dick, I simply can’t 
see the force of dragging you away up that 
coullee again. Anyhow, I’m going to climb 
the cut-bank to avoid going away round by 
the stony beach. I should not advise any of 
you to wander too far away. I very much fear 
there is some ugly change in the weather brew- 
ing. Au revoir, till lunch time anyhow." 

Au revoiry' they shouted in chorus, and 
instinctively looked after the spare, but well- 
knit figure of the man that somehow every one 
felt so much attracted to, but still whom they 
could but imperfectly understand. In their 
minds was no prescience of approaching evil. 
And it was a coincidence, pure and simple, in 
accordance with after events, that when he got 
to the ridge in sight of the series of clay 
terraces he should look back and wave his hand 
to them. There was a certain young lady 
there, who was suddenly seized with an almost 
irresistible impulse to kiss her hand to him in 
return ; but she checked herself in time, and 
wondered what had possessed her to think of 
such a thing, and speculated on her state of 
mind if she had committed such a rash act. A 
few days afterwards, she was sorry that she 
stifled in its birth a natural and kindly, if an 
unorthodox action. 

Dick climbed the series of ridges : they were 
neither dangerous nor difficult just there, and 
again stood on the brow of the cliff overlooking 
the valley. He went on to where he had left 


t>ls Satanic /Bbajeet^ /ibaRea a Itsovc. 189 

Mrs. Tredennis, and looked all along for her, 
but she was nowhere to be seen. She must 
have gone in search of some new point of van- 
tage from which to sketch the Devil’s Play- 
ground. Travers followed along the brow of 
the cliff for a mile or so, to a place where a 
series of shelving terraces sloped in a broken 
and irregular way towards the valley again. It 
was some time before he discovered her of 
whom he was in quest; she was perched on 
one of the terraces overhanging a deep, broken 
coullee a few hundred yards or so from where 
he stood : how she got there puzzled him. He 
started off to reach her on one of these irregu- 
lar terraces ; but when he came to within speak- 
ing distance of her, he discovered he had taken 
the wrong one, and stood directly above her. A 
drop of several feet, and a slide down a soft 
face of clay, and he was directly behind her. 
She was sketching intently, and evidently was 
unaware of his approach. She had sketched 
with a bold sweeping stroke the wildly irregu- 
lar and grotesque features of the scene ; but 
now her eyes rested on it, as if she were some- 
what at a loss to tfeat such a subject. Dick 
was unwilling to disturb her, and watched her, 
keeping perfectly still. Suddenly, with a start, 
she turned round and gazed full upon him with 
almost a look of fear in her eyes, though it was 
evident she strove to conceal any surprise. 

I did not expect you back,” she said, hur- 
ridly, before Dick could apologize for having 


190 TLbc WcviVe iPlai^srounD* 

disturbed her, though for the life of him he 
could not tell how it was she had suddenly 
divined his presence. She continued — 

Do you know, a strange thing has hap- 
pened. I neither saw nor heard you, but sud- 
denly you came into my thoughts, and I felt 
somehow that you were near me ; I turned round 
and found it was so. Don’t you think it was 
more than a coincidence ? ” 

Her lips were parted, and her eyes were 
eager and fixed upon his. She was evidently 
ill at ease about something, and strove to 
divert the personal nature of the conversation. 

Not so very strange after all,” he said. 
“ It is simply an unexplored science : mind- 
reading is the outcome of it, which might 
explain the phenomena ; they say that people 
of a peculiar temperament have the power to a 
greater or less degree. It seems to be a highly 
impressionable and sensitive condition of the 
brain and nerves — abnormally developed per- 
ceptive faculties, or whatever you may choose 
to call it. I have told the numbers on a bank- 
note held by another man five times out of six 
myself. It sounds like nonsense to some peo- 
ple. But the existence of the phenomenon is 
an acknowledged fact, governed by natural 
laws all the same.” 

“ You make me almost afraid of you,” she 
said, with a slight laugh. I can understand 
now, how it was that I was almost afraid to 
think at times when you were near me.” 


1 bi 6 Satanic /Iftajeatis /Iftaliea a /above* 191 

“ Then you admit that the past sometimes 
troubles you ? he rejoined, seating himself on 
a boulder of clay near to her, and regarding 
her curiously. Her face flushed slightly, as 
she met his eyes ; but with the air of one who 
has nothing to fear or to conceal, she said — 

“ Do you think it fair or manly to tax me like 
this ? I have told you before, that it were bet- 
ter to let things remain as they are. To resur- 
rect the past is only to make matters worse for 
both you and me : and oh, I know what you 
must have thought of me ; it is useless, I fear, 
to expect that you should think otherwise. But 
for pity’s sake do not talk of the past ! ” 

She said this almost piteously ; but there was 
that light in her eyes, and on her face, that he 
had seen there on a former occasion, and which 
was difficult to reconcile with a consciousness 
of wrong-doing. It was rather a look of nobil- 
ity : that of one who would sooner suffer mis- 
representation and shame in the sight of those 
whose good opinion she most valued, rather 
than that which would remove all stigma from 
her, but expose her to a greater evil. He was 
now conscious of some hidden truth — on a 
former occasion its existence had suggested 
itself to him ; now, he was sure of it, and he 
regarded her with the light of a great trouble 
in his eyes, which was devoid of the anger that 
he had felt before. She returned his gaze 
calmly. Then, slowly her eyes dropped before 
his, as she said in a voice that, though low and 
kindly, was not altogether steady— 


192 ^be WcviVe iPla^grounD* 

Let us talk of something else, Dick. It's 
stupid of us to be always skating on the verge 
of a quarrel.” 

Across the leaden-hued sky a ray of sickly 
sunlight fell ; it shot across the gloomy valley, 
and lighting up the face of the loathly saurian, 
had the effect of making that reptile look as if 
it were in a condition bordering on lugubrious- 
ness. It also made the wicked-looking old 
toad leer more horribly than ever. So sudden 
and complete was the illusion that Mrs. Tre- 
dennis, thinking it might be only a trick of her 
own fertile imagination, looked at her compan- 
ion to observe if he had also noticed it. His 
eyes met hers and they both laughed. 

“ Are they not a pretty pair ? ” he asked, as 
if divining her thoughts, “ I don’t think I ever 
saw such a gruesome spot in all my life. One 
could imagine such a place set aside for the 
enactment of some dark retributive act from the 
night side of mundane things.” 

'‘To hear you talk,” she rejoined, smilingly, 
“one would think you anticipated trouble. I 
hope you have no awkward presentiment that 
we two have] got to be the principal actors in 
such a tragedy as you evidently think about. 
How cold it has got all of a sudden ! ” 

W-h-i-s~h~sh ! 

A gust of^ wind swept over their heads, and 
stirred up the fine alkali dust in the valley 
beneath them. It rose in pillar-like clouds, 
until it assumed the appearance of steam 


t>ie Satanic /Iftajeat^ /iRaf^es a /iRove* 193 

ascending from some unseen caldron. Mrs. 
Tredennis stopped sketching for a minute, and 
looked wonderingly at the changing scene ; 
much in the same way as she would have looked 
at a child, who had betrayed a sudden fit of 
temper. She was a charming contrast, this 
young woman, with her handsome and trim 
figure shown to its best advantage by a fault- 
less taste, and with the delicate bloom of health 
on her cheek, and its lustre in her eyes. She 
would have made a striking picture, posed 
against one of these grotesqueries as a foil to 
her beauty. Then for a while their conversa- 
tion hinged on natural phenomena of a like 
nature, and which Travers had seen in South 
America ; and so interesting evidently did the 
conversation become, that Mrs. Tredennis was 
in danger of neglecting her sketch. 

Ss~w~zssk I 

A chill gust of wind shrilled over their heads ; 
and a drear shadow enveloped the valley in a 
ghostly twilight. Then there was a sobbing 
and sighing in the air, and an ominous murmur 
like that which precedes a cyclone, ere it comes 
raving and crashing through the far Australian 
forest. How cold it had grown all of a sud- 
den ! 

Travers sprung to his feet as a feathery flake 
of snow melted on his cheek. His companion 
shivered and closed her sketch-book, but be- 
trayed no uneasiness whatever. 

** Snow ! ” cried Dick, now thoroughly 


194 tTbe BcviVe pla^^rounb* 

alarmed, for he knew what that meant. “We 
must get out of here as quickly as possible. I 
am to blame for not having made you leave this 
before. I wonder if this terrace runs into the 
bench again ; if so we might follow it right up ; 
once there we would be safer, and traveling 
would be easier.” 

“Look eastward,” Mrs. Tredennis said, “it 
seems to run into the plateau again. Let us try 
it, anyhow. You need not blame yourself, I 
alone am to blame. Anyhow, I want you to 
try this way of reaching the top, and if we have 
to turn again the fault will have been mine.’’ 

She was perfectly cool and collected ; indeed, 
much more so than he was. He attributed it 
to her ignorance of what such a change meant 
in these parts. But here he wronged her ; for 
she had read of how men had been lost and 
frozen to death on their way from their dwel- 
ling-houses to the horse-stable ; and how chil- 
dren had been overtaken by these same 
blizzards, and perished miserably on their way 
to school. 

They hurried along the shelving terrace, and 
as they went, the feathery flakes of snow fell 
thicker, and more quickly around them ; they 
could not see the valley beneath, but as yet the 
overhanging terrace behind, somewhat pro- 
tected them from the keen wind that was blow- 
ing. In less than five minutes there was a 
carpet of snow under their feet ; and despite 
the sheltering cliff, it was impossible to see 


1bi0 Satantc /llbajesti^ /iRaFtes a IVsovc. 19s 

more than a few paces ahead of them. Over 
their heads they could see the snow scurrying 
along at a pitiless, fearful rate. They knew it 
would be impossible for any living thing to ex- 
ist on that exposed plateau. Suddenly they 
were shut in by semi-darkness. It grew icy 
cold as the wind dashed the half frozen snow 
against their hands and cheeks ; and as it was 
difficult to hear each other speak by reason of 
the noise of the wind, and the hissing of the 
blizzard, they were in a sorry plight. 

Now, on the level prairie, where there is 
nothing to offer any obstruction to the fury of 
the wind and snow, one of the peculiar features 
of the blizzard is the almost utter absence of all 
sound. A blizzard is a terribly real, but a 
ghostly thing; for on the open prairie one 
seems struggling with an invisible force that is 
silent as the grave. But here, in this wildly 
irregular and honeycombed country, the ele- 
ments broke and eddied round the great pillars 
of clay as if the devil were playing in a shrill, 
minor key on a species of pan-pipes. 

Instinctively she had held out her hand to 
him, and he had taken it and led her along im- 
passively. Suddenly they drew back in fear — 
the terrace had suddenly broken off, part of it 
had slid away from the cliff alongside, and the 
continuation of the terrace was probably far 
beneath them. To reach it the descent would 
be almost perpendicular, which would necessi- 
tate a cool head and firm nerves. Dick paused 


196 ^be 'BcviVe ipla^^rounb^ 

nonplussed ; but Mrs. Tredennis caught him by 
the arm, and placing her mouth close to his ear, 
said in a quiet, steady voice — 

‘‘ I am not afraid to go down there, besides, I 
have got this stick, and if you give me your 
hand I think we could manage it. We must 
get to better shelter than we have here, any- 
how.” 

Her eyes were perfectly calm and untroubled 
despite the danger in which they were, and 
there was no murmur or complaint upon her 
lips. The childlike confidence she seemed to 
place in him, somewhat touched and gave him 
courage. 

All right ; ” he shouted back, there can 
be no danger if you only clasp your hands 
round this belt of mine, and brace yourself so, 
against the side of the cliff. — Now, then ! ” 

There was no time to lose, he knew that 
every minute’s delay meant danger ; besides, 
they were both becoming chilled and less capa- 
ble of performing a feat such as they now pro- 
posed to do. 

They stepped over the brink ; Dick planted 
his feet firmly on the now somewhat slippery 
clay. He had taken off a spur, and grasping it 
firmly in one hand, had dug the neck securely 
into the wall of earth ; it helped to steady him. 
But the wall-like bank was more difficult to 
maintain a footing on than they had bargained 
for ; as if they had suddenly shot over some 
slippery glacier on an Alpine peak, they slid 


1 bi 6 Satanic /ftajest^ /lRai;e0 a UHsovc. 197 

down it at a sickening rate. If they should 
strike now one of those narrow terraces, by 
reason of the impetus which they had gained, 
they would go clean over it, on to what it was 
horrible to think. There was only one thing to 
be done. Mrs. Tredennis was worse than 
a dead weight to him, and her slim ankle boots 
offered no resistance to the soft slippery bank. 
Dick looked into the face of Mrs. Tredennis, 
and though there was nothing like panic or fear 
in it, he saw she realized the situation. In 
another second she had loosened her hold on 
his belt, and was about to throw herself from 
him when he divined her purpose. With one 
supreme effort he wound his arm round her 
waist, and lifting her sheer off her feet rested 
her against his right side. He dug his feet 
firmly into the clay with the energy of despair, 
and braced himself against the precipitous wall. 
His increased weight steadied him, and he 
found that his feet could offer a greater resist- 
ance to the treacherous clay, and his impetus 
was lessened. In another minute his feet 
struck a narrow platform, and throwing him- 
self against it he strained every nerve in his 
body to prevent their going over. In another 
second they knew that they were saved, from 
one horrible death at least. 

Then Dick released his grip upon Mrs. Tre- 
dennis, but still held her firmly by one hand. 
Her face was somewhat pale, and her eyes 
were strangely bright ; but there was nothing 


198 XTbe 2)evir0 pla^arounb* 

approaching to fear in them. It was only when 
she peered over the edge of the terrace on 
which they crouched, and saw the misty depth 
beneath them, that she realized from what she 
had escaped. 

There was something in her conduct that 
Dick could not reconcile with his late estimate 
of her. She had, he believed, in the past sacri- 
ficed her love of him — such as it must have 
been — to worldly considerations. But still, 
when they were slipping down that bank to- 
gether she had not hesitated to release her hold 
on him — though it meant certain death to her 
— in order that she might not endanger his 
chances of escape. Ninety-nine girls in a unh- 
dred, he told himself, in a similar situation, 
even if they had possessed the presence of 
mind, would have considered their own safety 
first. That she was ready to sacrifice her own 
life for his was a revelation, and enigmatical. 

When Dick spoke to her, it was in a different 
mood from that in which he had addressed her 
on a previous occasion ; but he infused as much 
brusqueness into his speech as he could muster. 

‘‘You must not do such a foolhardy thing 
again,*’ he said. You see your extra weight 
was a help to me, and not a source of danger as 
you imagined. We must get out of this. 
Give me your hand, so. Do you think you 
could stand on this narrow path without getting 
dizzy ? ” 

If you held my hand, Dick,” she replied, 


*lbl0 Satanic jfHbaje6ti2 /ftaftes a /Rove* 199 

raising her eyes to his. But she looked away 
again, as if conscious that she was upon dan- 
gerous ground, and which was not in accordance 
with the policy she had determined upon. 

Faster and faster whirled the blinding snow, 
hiding everything from their sight; and per- 
haps it was as well, for now it shut out the 
abyss that yawned beneath them. Dick raised 
her from the ground, and taking her by the 
hand led her along the narrow winding ledge. 
Sometimes, when the eddying wind caught 
them, it threatened to dash them from their 
scanty foothold. At length the terrace got 
broader, and the wall of the cliff at certain 
places became hollowed out and overhung them, 
forming a series of cave-like recesses, which 
were comparatively sheltered and dry. On the 
exposed part of the terrace the footing now be- 
came so uncertain and difficult that it was dan- 
gerous to proceed. At length they came to a 
recess that seemed to pierce further into the 
cliff than the others. By this time Mrs. Tre- 
dennis showed signs of fatigue, and Dick was 
afraid that, despite her uncommon pluck, she 
would play out altogether. 

We had better go in here, and rest,” he 
said. “ It is impossible for any one to live on 
the bench in such a storm, even if it were pos- 
sible to get there.” 

She simply bowed her head by way of assent ; 
and he led her into the cave, which was per- 
fectly dry, and which, though cold, seemed a 


200 ^be BcviVe iplai^arounb* 

very haven of refuge from the blinding blizzard. 
They staggered in, and Mrs. Tredennis, sinking 
on a low ledge of rocks, buried her face in her 
hands, and lay for a few moments motionless, 
as if to recover from the strain of the last 
terrible thirty minutes. 

Oh, those poor girls ! ” were the first words 
she uttered. She never for an instant seemed 
to consider her own position, doubly perilous as 
it was ; a stranger to have heard her would have 
thought that she had been guilty of something 
worse than carelessness, in allowing them to 
stray into that wilderness. Travers assured 
her, as well as he might, of the advantages of 
the place, so far as shelter was concerned, in 
which he had left Holmes and the two girls. 
Besides, he knew that the former could be 
counted upon to act with promptitude and dis- 
cretion in an emergency. 

And still the blizzard raged outside. It was 
as if a broken avalanche of snow and ice were 
borne along on the pitiless breath of a hurri- 
cane. 

The devil was playing a bold game. 


CHAPTER XVI. 


A BLIZZARD. 

When Dick Travers left the two girls and 
Holmes, the latter came to the conclusion that 
the best thing to be done under the circum- 
stances (seeing that two were company and three 
were none — for the Sage was not above the 
petty weaknesses of mankind) was to find the 
fossil ground, and get back to camp as soon as 
possible. F urthermore, despite his inexperience. 
Jack did not altogether like the look of the 
weather ; and he knew that now, since the two 
young ladies were under his care, if anything 
happened to them, he was mainly responsible. 
He knew that Mrs. Tredennis was in the best 
of hands with Dick, 

They followed down the creek and found the 
bank without much trouble. It proved a veri- 
table storehouse of curiosities. They found 
sea-shells of every variety and pattern, from 
the homely cockle to a species the like of which, 
and the existence of, they had never dreamed. 
As for fish, they were of every shape and size ; 
the very skin was so wonderfully preserved 
that it glistened silvery white and pink. They 


202 tibe WcviVe iplai^arounb* 

were gathering some beautiful specimens, 
culling and discarding others, and keeping up a 
merry fire of banter the while, when suddenly 
the Sage called out — 

‘‘ Hilloa — look there ! We must get back to 
camp as soon as possible. I wonder if Dick 
has found Mrs. Tredennis? If that isn’t a 
blizzard coming up, then all I have heard about 
them is nonsense.” 

He pointed to the north-west. There, 
surely enough, was a great dark shadow slowly 
spreading itself over the face of the sky. There 
was a deadly stillness in the air, and it had 
grown cold ; but in their warm, tweed dresses 
the girls had not thought much of that. 

Sssh — w — i — s — h ! 

On it came ; and, despite their light-hearted- 
ness and inexperience, it was an ominous and 
eerie sound. It was the first breath of a wind 
that suggested the frozen regions of the North ; 
and the change, from even a sickly, watery 
gleam of sunshine was sudden enough to be 
startling. 

“ Give me those shells,” said Holmes. He 
took the pocket-handkerchief containing the 
fossils from the girls. “ Now, if you have ever 
followed up the otter hounds, imagine that you 
are at a hunt now. The sooner we get back in 
camp the better.” 

They ran and walked by turns, back to where 
they had left the wagon and horses. As yet 
the girls were in no way alarmed. Their idea 


203 


^Tbe J3U33atD* 

of a storm was limited at the most to the recol- 
lection of an Old-Country one ; which, always 
at its worst, would give those who were caught 
in it, a few hours at least to place themselves 
beyond the reach of its fury ; and before the 
snow would get too deep for a team to travel. 

“ It seems to me,” said Holmes, “ that we 
are in the direct track of the storm, for such 
I’ve no doubt that it is. It would be folly to keep 
the horses down in this hollow ; for if it comes 
on to snow we will never get them out. It 
looks clearer to the east; we must travel in 
that direction. Into the wagon both of you ; 
we will drive back along the brow of the cliff, 
where we left Mrs. Tredennis, and with whom 
Dick doubtless now is, and pick them up. It 
would be madness to remain here in this strange, 
broken country ; we should never leave it. ” 

Loth though the two girls were to make a 
move that might possibly upset the calculations 
of their companions, and perhaps be the means 
of missing them, should they descend to this 
camping ground by some other way; they 
nevertheless could see the folly of remaining, in 
such a dangerous place as the Devil’s Play- 
ground would prove to be in the event of a 
storm. Holmes hitched up the horses : they 
clambered into the wagon, and away they rat- 
tled up the dangerous path by which they had 
descended. Ere they came to the steepest part 
they alighted, and it took Holmes all his time to 
coach the two wiry horses safely on to the bench 
again. 


204 ^be WcviVe ©lai^Qtounb* 

Ssw — i—sA ! 

Holmes plied his whip. 

Ten minutes more, and they stood on the 
brink of the hideous gulch. 

“Where on earth are they.^” he cried, in 
tones of annoyance, and looking around ex- 
citedly. 

A sickly ray of sunlight just then shot like a 
wan meteor from the grey heavens, and piercing 
the semi-twilight of the gloomy, gruesome val- 
ley, rested for a second on the face of the eyeless, 
loathly saurian, which seemed to grin horribly, 
and on that of the wicked, leering old toad. 

The girls shivered instinctively, as their eyes 
rested upon them, 

“ What a wizard s freak ! ” the elder of the 
two remarked. “Bunyan or Dante could not 
have dreamed of a more horrible place. Nature 
must have meant to embody the idea of a night- 
mare, when she fashioned this valley.” 

“ Hold the reins, one of you girls.” The 
Sage was forgetting his manners in his excite- 
ment ; but perhaps the gravity of the position 
justified dispensing with ceremony just then. 
He ran to the brow of the cliff, and putting his 
hands to his lips, gave out the cry of that far-off 
world — the Australian “ Coo-ee ! ” again and 
again. He paused and listened in a state of 
painful, nervous tension, and scanned every 
corner of the valley in sight. But there was no 
sign of life in that wild spot. 

“ It’s too bad ! ” cried Holmes, despairingly. 


205 


Coe J)0lt33arD* 

They could hardly have started back to the 
camp without letting us know of it : but it’s 
just probable they have done so, I don’t think 
it possible that they can be here. Anyhow, it 
is as much as our lives are worth to stop on this 
exposed plateau ; we must get back to the 
shelter of Wild Horse Creek — the only clear 
spot left in the sky is to the east. There’s no 
help for it. Give me the reins. Thanks, now 
don’t alarm yourselves if I give you rather a 
rough ride.” 

S — Tu — / — s — A, hi — sssf 

He gave a last despairing look at the ill-fated 
valley, and groaned aloud in spite of himself. 

“ Oh, Dick, Dick ! ” he groaned, under his 
breath. “ I thought that woman would some- 
how be the death of you in the long run.” 

He was loyal to his friend ; but he admitted 
at last, what he had striven to banish from his 
thoughts time and again. 

“ You must not leave them,” cried the elder 
of the two girls, despairingly. “You shall not 
leave them like this ! Just imagine what they 
will think of us, when they find that we have 
driven off and left them.” 

But, perhaps, after all — for she was only 
human — there was only one whose good opin- 
ion she now valued : for towards the other she 
experienced a growing feeling of distrust and 
bitterness. 

The younger sister in turn added her appeals. 

But Jack Holmes was adamant for once; he 


2o6 Zbc IDcviVe plai^grounD* 

turned the horses’ heads, and giving them a 
loose rein, drove over the sloping bench in a 
manner that was more perilous than pleasant. 

Jack Holmes thought — judging by the rather 
ominous looks of the two girls, that it would be 
as well that he should justify his action, and 
said — 

‘‘Their only hope is in our being able to 
bring them help. You must recollect that no 
one knew exactly where we were going. Had 
we remained in the valley we would most likely 
have got snowed in without any likelihood of 
getting out. Wrap these rugs round you, and 
lie down in the bottom of the rig, for here it 
comes ! ” 

And, with a rush that was appalling in its 
suddenness, the full force of the blizzard was 
upon them. Luckily their course did not lie in 
the face of it : for it would have been impos- 
sible for any living thing to have made head- 
way against it. It struck them sideways, and 
the horses staggered and cowered for an 
instant, and the wagon swayed ; but Holmes, 
plying the whip, and shouting to them at the 
top of his voice, rallied them. In another 
second they bounded away at headlong speed 
down the sloping bench. Perhaps they had not 
received the full fury of the blizzard as yet, or 
they would have surely perished on that exposed 
plateau. 

Tally-ho! Yo-icks! The hunting-field in 
the Old Country is an exciting place, truly : one 


207 


^be 3!0a33atD^ 

wants a spice of danger to give zest to the 
tameness and insipidity of an advanced and 
leisured civilization. But a run for life with a 
blizzard on a trackless and exposed plateau ! — 
Hisss — s — w — i — ssk — 

Holmes had slipped on his mitts, and had 
taken the course of a slight declivity, that be- 
came as it descended a slight coullee, which he 
knew led ultimately toward the great cut-bank 
and strip of timber in Wild Horse Creek, and 
which he strove to win. The girls did as they 
were bid, and lay down in the bottom of the 
wagon. Holmes bowed his head, and stole an 
occasional glance in the direction in which they 
were traveling ; but now the scurrying, blind- 
ing snow made it impossible to see more than a 
few yards ahead of him. It was a dangerous 
ride : the horses knowing by former experiences 
that they were making for shelter, and, mad- 
dened by the stinging, icy blast, tore onwards 
at headlong speed. Several times the wagon 
struck sharp boulders of rock which protruded 
from the ground, and there would be a sharp, 
sickening concussion : the wagon would sway 
wildly for a minute or two — would something 
give, or the wagon capsize ? Then it would 
right itself, rattle onwards on its perilous career 
again, and they would breath more freely. 
Sometimes the wind was so strong, and the 
snow so blinded and choked him, that Holmes 
groaned in very agony of spirit, and thought it 
was all up with him. Then he would think of 


2o8 ^be Devire ©las^rounb^ 

the two inexperienced and helpless girls who 
lay huddled in the bottom of the wagon ; and 
the thought would flash across his mind, that 
their lives depended upon his bearing up. 
Then, choking and gasping for breath, he would 
rouse himself to a fresh endeavor. 

And now the slight hollow became a coullee ; 
the broken ground, and the snow drifting into 
it, somewhat impeded their progress ; but the 
two game bronchos plunged gallantly on. An- 
other fifteen minutes of a steady run down a 
grassy bottom, and Holmes began to wonder if 
by any chance he had missed Wild Horse Creek, 
the timber and high cut-bank, when suddenly 
the horses came to a dead stop. It was the 
creek ; Holmes jumped out and reconnoitered 
as far as he dared. Finding that he could cross 
the dry bed of the creek with but little trouble, 
he climbed into the wagon again, and struggled 
across with the horses. Then he thought there 
seemed to be a slight lull in the severity of the 
storm, and lifting up his head he could see the 
great, dim outlines of trees looming up ahead 
of him, like spectres through a mist. He drove 
the horses through the dense undergrowth and 
among the trees. The wind seemed to have 
fallen somewhat. Suddenly he discovered the 
cause of it. He was confronted by a great wall 
of clay, and could discern a black seam running 
through it, which he knew was coal. 

It is Wild Horse Creek, anyhow,” he cried 
aloud, regardless as to whether the others could 


tlbe 209 

hear him or not. We can choose a sheltered 
spot and wait until the blizzard lifts. It can- 
not be more than a few miles from camp at the 
most. They are sure to come down the creek 
in search of us. It would be worse than mad- 
ness to proceed a foot further at present, for I 
don’t know exactly where we are ; and we 
might only be straying further from camp.” 

He followed round the foot of the cliff for 
about a hundred yards or so, and finding a well- 
sheltered nook, unhitched the horses and tied 
them up to trees. There was a dense grove of 
maples close to the cliff, and wheeling the 
wagon close up to it, and with the aid of a toma- 
hawk, he soon made a tolerably good camping 
ground. He then lifted out the two girls, and 
prepared to make the best of things until the 
storm lifted. 


CHAPTER XVII. 


THE GRIM TWIN SHADOWS. 

It was the worst blizzard, and lasted longer 
than any that ever had been known within the 
memory of man — that is the red man, for the 
number of years the whites had been in the 
country could be counted on one’s fingers. 
The losses, so far as stock was concerned, were 
bad enough. But as for human life, to many a 
family that year is fraught with sorrowful mem- 
ory. For two days had the blizzard raged 
without intermission, and it was impossible for 
search parties to organize or venture out after 
the missing ones. Those who were in com- 
parative safety could only sit inactive by the 
stove, and chafe over the harrowing knowledge 
that every minute was increasing the miseries 
of those who were missing, and lessening the 
chances of their being found alive. 

In the camp, on Wild Horse Creek, which the 
unlucky picnickers had left on that eventful 
morning, were Tredennis, Cousin Ned, Rey- 
nolds, and Briggs ; the first-named three hav- 
ing been fortunate enough to make the camp 
on the approach of the storm. When Treden- 


®be Orim Zvoin Sbabowa* 21 1 

nis had returned and found that the picnic 
party had not turned up, he prepared to start 
right out after them regardless of the storm. 
But here, Reynolds asserted his superior experi- 
ence. He pointed out the foolhardiness of the 
attempt, and showed how the hope of the ulti- 
mate recovery of the party depended on them 
conserving their strength, and being prepared 
for prolonged exertion as soon as the opportu- 
nity permitted. To go out then, would only be 
to get lost themselves and delay matters still 
more. Tredennis allowed himself to be in- 
fluenced, but still chafed over the delay. Being 
one of those undemonstrative men who suffer 
in silence, his attempts to control his impatience 
were piteous to witness. 

Ere the storm had attained its height, three 
Indians, riding and leading pack-horses, rode 
right on to the camp. They had evidently just 
come off the open prairie, and were searching 
as best they could for suitable shelter. It was 
hard to say whether the Indians, or the white 
men were the more surprised at thus meeting 
each other. When the dusky sons of the prairie 
— they were Cree Indians returning from a 
horse-stealing expedition, and had cacMd their 
horses — had satisfied themselves that it was not 
a Mounted Police camp they had struck, they 
pitched a tepee, as well as they could, right 
alongside that of the white man’s, with far-see- 
ing views of a mercenary nature. Reynolds, 
who knew sufficient of the Cree language to be 


212 Zbc 2)ev>ir6 BMa^atounD* 

able to converse freely with them, told how that 
certain of their party were lost, and after con- 
ferring with Tredennis, made an arrangement 
by which, for certain considerations, they should 
as soon as the blizzard abated, assist them in 
their search for the missing ones. These intelli- 
gent children of Nature straightway drew their 
snow-shoes from their packs, and started in to 
construct a couple of spare pairs. It was a 
revelation to Tredennis, and showed him more 
plainly than anything could have done, how 
uncertain the climate was considered by those 
who knew it best. 

All that night, and all next day the blizzard 
raged. Once Reynolds had gone out to have a 
look at the horses. But he had not gone five 
yards from the tents, when he found the force 
of the blizzard so great that he could not make 
any headway against it whatever, so, blinded 
and choking, he returned to the tent. 

In the cave on the terrace that overhung the 
Devil’s Playground there was darkness and 
stillness, while the blizzard raged outside. 
True, the man and woman who occupied it 
were for the time being safe ; but still they 
could not conceal from themselves the fact, that 
perhaps they had been only saved from a sud- 
den death, to perish miserably by a more pain- 
ful and lingering one. Travers had explored 
the several rambling passages that branched 
from the cave in various directions ; but they 
all, after winding about, ended in a blank wall 


ZTbe (3rim Zwin Sf3aDow0* 


213 


of clay. He realized then, that they were as 
completely cut off from all communication with 
the outside world as it were possible for two 
persons to be. When he returned to Mrs. Tre- 
dennis, he found her sitting on a boulder of clay. 
She looked up quickly, and as well as she 
could in the dim light, looked into his eyes. 
He, somehow, turned uneasily from her, though 
he tried hard to assume an easy manner. It 
was she who first broke the silence. 

“ You have come back to report that we have 
been caught in a trap,’' she said, quietly. 

You need not be afraid to tell me that. The 
only thing that troubles me as yet is the 
thought of those poor girls ; in fa6t, and you 
need not gainsay it, I was the means of bring- 
ing you all here. I seem to bring nothing but 
misfortune to my friends.” She added this 
speech as if it were an afterthought, and spoke 
it bitterly. Dick observed that she rubbed her 
two hands weakly together, as if she had tried 
to infuse some warmth into them. He sprang 
to her side. 

“ You must not risk frost-bite,” he said, 
gently ; give me your hands.” 

He took her hands between his own (as it is 
customary to do when frost-bite is feared), and 
she assented passively. Then he chafed them 
between his own, until he had infused some de- 
gree of warmth into them. He took a warm 
pair of mitts from his breast — he had forgotten 
them till now — and drew them over her hands. 


214 O^be Bevire iPlaisQtounb* 

“ Luckily I took the Scotsman’s advice,” he re- 
marked. Now give me your feet.” 

Tenderly and reverently, as a husband or a 
brother would have done, he unlaced her ankle 
boots, and taking them off, made her chafe 
them, to restore the circulation of the blood. 
She had held them out to him, one after an- 
other. There was no trace of embarrassment, 
or mock modesty in her manner : she was simple 
and childlike in her obedience to him. He 
drew a pair of thick woollen socks over those 
she wore, and was about to draw a pair of 
moccasins over them, when she gently put out 
her hands and prevented him. 

“No, Dick,” she said, firmly; “if you have 
adopted precautions that other people laughed 
at, are you to suffer for them? You shall not 
rob yourself like this ; my feet will be perfectly 
warm without these moccasins. You must put 
them on yourself.” 

And though he demurred, and assured her 
that, being accustomed to the cold, he had no 
trouble in keeping his own feet warm, she was 
firm, and reluctantly he was obliged to remove 
his own boots and put them on himself. He 
gently pointed out to her the absurdity of blam- 
ing herself for the troubles that were indepen- 
dent of any human foresight. For a while 
after this there was silence in the cave. It 
grew dark, and instinctively they drew nearer 
to each other. 

“ You must lie down and try to get some 


Zbc ( 5 dm XLvcin Sba5ow0* 215 

rest,” he said at length. '' Take this coat and 
put it under your head. No, no,” — she had 
made a quick gesture of dissent — *Vwhat I 
want is a good walk up and down this cave, 
and then after you have slept I shall lie down, 
and you can see that I do not sleep too long. 
You understand we must conserve our strength, 
for we may need it all before we get out of this.” 

“ If ever we do, Dick,” she remarked, sim- 
ply. It was a strange speech for a young 
woman to make, and what struck him as odd, 
was her remarkable indifference as to her fate. 
She was keenly alive as to the danger in which 
her friends were, and evidently blamed herself 
as being the cause of all the trouble. Dick had 
once got his head examined by a phrenologist, 
who had told him that he had no fear of death. 
Surely, she also was of the same condition of 
mind. 

She did as she was told, and lying down on 
the bare ground — there was no dry grass that 
they could pull and make a couch of — and 
placing his coat under her head, prepared to 
sleep. 

Dick sat still for a few minutes, until by her 
stillness he concluded she was asleep, and then 
paced the cave backwards and forwards. The 
exercise did him good, and soon under its in- 
fluence he acquired some degree of warmth, 
and felt altogether in a more contented frame 
of mind. He could now reflect more clearly 
and dispassionately upon the events of the last 


2i6 Xlhc Devtre IPla^^arounD* 

twelve hours. He knew, weigh it in the most 
favorable light he could, that if the storm lasted 
— which it had every likelihood of doing — for 
the next twenty-four hours, they were doomed. 
For even if he could escape from the terrace 
by taking chances and dropping from some low 
point into a snow-drift, his strength by that 
time would be so reduced, that he could not 
possibly force his way through the deep snow, 
and he must necessarily perish in it, worn out 
by fatigue, hunger, and exposure. He hoped 
that Holmes, who might have seen the ap- 
proach of the storm, had driven off the girls to 
a place of safety, or perhaps, even, have re- 
gained the camp. He knew they had not gone 
without first looking for him. Presuming that 
Tredennis, Cousin Ned, and Reynolds, had not 
been themselves caught in the blizzard, how 
could they possibly find them, seeing that, 
without snow-shoes, it would be impossible to 
pick their way across the intervening miles of 
deep snow ? Death, so far as simply ceasing 
to exist was concerned, did not trouble him. 
There was no one depending on his existence 
for daily bread, and there was no one whose 
heart would be sore and heavy for many a 
weary day, because he was not. He felt some- 
thing akin to a cynical pleasure in the very 
thought of this. No, his had been a wrecked 
life ; one of those chequered existences which, 
after a strongly marked and hectic career, set 
in darkness, and are forgotten. 


®be 0rim XLwin Sbabows* 217 

And a woman had wrecked his life (for the 
loss of wealth was a questionable loss after 
all), and surely it was a strange turn in the 
wheel of Fate, that she who had wrought this 
evil should perish with him. It was a terrible 
Nemesis, this living death. In his dark mo- 
ments, during a reckless career, he had cursed 
her in his heart. At times thoughts had flashed 
across his. mind — nor is there any royal im- 
munity granted from evil thoughts — which in 
his more sober moments he had shuddered to 
think himself capable of. He had thought that 
to see her perish miserably, even if he had to 
perish with her, would be some consolation to 
his outraged sense of honor. Strange, is it not 
that such wishes are sometimes gratified ? It 
was a remarkable series of events that had 
thrown them together again ; and though he 
knew that she deserved his contempt, and that 
a cool restraint ought to characterize his rela- 
tions with her, still the old spell was too power- 
ful for him. Like a drunkard, that loathes the 
chains he himself forges, and which drag him 
down to death, he had whispered her name 
with a fond desire, in the same breath as he 
had cursed her. 

“ Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor’s wife.” — 
By the sacred and unwritten law of man she 
ought to have been his. If she had sold herself 
to Tredennis, and something in her manner told 
him she had, was the venal law to triumph over 
a higher code, and prevent him from possessing 


2iS tibe lS>cv\Ve ipiai^^rounb^ 

that, which by God s law of natural selection 
ought to have been his ? Perhaps he had been 
stronger than he had deemed himself. Probably 
the natural inherent qualities of the man — the 
true man in him — had been too powerful for 
these enervating moral thoughts. He was no 
hero, but he had wrestled manfully with them. 
As it was, so far as man’s social laws were con- 
cerned, he had in no way violated them. He 
could meet that husband, whom he had learned 
for his many good qualities to respect, with a 
conscience comparatively clear. Evil thoughts 
are sinful, says the bigot. No battle, no victory, 
is the reply. 

As to his ultimate fate, it somehow did not 
interest him as he had imagined it would. He 
had faced death in various forms before in his 
wild latter life, and even indulged in a strange 
vein of speculation on its contingencies. He 
was not superstitious, but looking upon the im- 
pending tragedy in the light of a retributive act 
of justice, he knew that it was by no means 
undeserved. If he had never neglected the 
first principles of honor in his treatment and re- 
lations to others, he had sinned in that he had 
for the last few years neglected, and wasted that 
life which God had given him. He had not 
valued it as he ought to have done, and it had 
suffered in consequence. 

Dick ! ” 

He started, and roused himself from the 
train of thought which he had been pursuing. 


^Tbc ©rim 5\vin Sbabowa. 


219 


Mrs. Tredennis must have been asleep for some 
hours, and he had hardly noticed how the time 
passed. 

Had she called him ? Or was it only one of 
those realistic tricks, the taxed brain will some- 
times play itself. Shipwrecked sailors, men 
lost in the bush, fever patients, can all tell 
strange stories regarding such mysterious 
voices. 

But she was awake, and rose to her feet. 

“ Have you had a good sleep ? ” he asked 
her cheerily, by way of breaking the stillness 
that seemed to be an actual presence in the 
cave. 

Yes ; and now you must lie down. It is not 
nearly so cold as I thought it would be— what a 
comfortable pillow this coat makes.” 

I am glad you liked it. It is still snowing, 
but if it stops let me know at once, otherwise, 
you need not mind cooking breakfast till I get 
up. There will be lots of time then.” 

It was a ghastly joke, though its intention 
was good, and she laughed pleasantly. One 
not conversant with the circumstances, would 
never have imagined that it hinged upon a 
matter of life or death. Dick lay down, and in 
a few minutes was fast asleep. 

When he awoke some hours later there was 
a dusky twilight in the cave, and he felt some- 
what cold and stiff. He saw with but little sur- 
prise that the snow still fell heavily, though the 
extreme force of the wind had somewhat abated. 


220 ^be WcviVe pla^grounC)* 

Mrs. Tredennis sat opposite him, and though 
she regarded him with a smile upon her face, he 
could see that her eyes were troubled, and that 
serious thoughts had left their impress on her 
face. 

“Good-morning,” she said, with a quiet 
humor, “ will you have your breakfast now, or 
will you wait until the cook gets up ? ” 

“ Thanks, my appetite is hardly good enough 
at present,” he answered, trying to treat the 
subject in a like vein, “anyhow, I fear that what 
we have in the larder has not been improved 
by the hot weather.” 

He tried to assume a cheerful appearance, 
but the sight of her pale face somewhat spoiled 
the effect. He rose and went to the mouth of 
cave. 

It is impossible to see more than a few yards,” 
he said ; “ it would be folly to attempt it ; one 
would be lost before going fifty yards.” 

He knew that to have attempted to find his 
way back to the camp, through that blizzard, 
would simply have been to sacrifice all hope of 
rescue for her ; for he must surely have perished 
in it. True, it did not matter about his own 
life, but, considered as a means of saving 
another — however worthless he might consider 
that life — it was his duty to avoid risking it. 
For, contradictory as it might appear, his re- 
searches after the truth had taught him that 
man was a responsible being, and owed a duty 
towards his fellow-man. 


®be (5dm XLvoin Qbnbovce. 221 

After all, his estimate of the evil he had 
thought himself capable of, was much in excess 
of his fitness or inclination to see it accomplished. 
Pitifully human though he was in many things, 
he had still a heart that could find no solace in 
a selfish and blind revenge. 

Morning became mid-day, mid-day became 
afternoon, and the afternoon rounded towards 
evening again, and still the snow fell — drifting 
down in one dense cloud, which shut out even 
the terrace from sight, and made a twilight in 
the cave. 

As the day wore on, the want of all food, 
which, during the excitement of the first few 
hours had not troubled them, now exerted its 
influence, and they began to feel its overpower- 
ing effect upon mind and body. In the morn- 
ing, to avoid thinking too seriously about the 
privations that they would experience during 
the coming day, they had even made painful 
jokes at their own, and each other's expense ; 
but now, although the spirit was willing, the 
flesh was weak. Dick could not but admire the 
spirit of this woman, the very vigor of whose 
health he knew must cause her to feel the 
deprivation keenly, but yet, who never for a 
moment murmured or complained, but tried by 
her cheerful example to draw the thoughts of 
her companion from the grim shadows that 
hovered over them. Still things physical will 
influence the tendency of one’s thoughts, and 


222 ^be Devire iplai^grount)* 

Dick, partly because the reminiscences were 
called up vividly to his mind by the circum- 
stances of the present, related to her an expe- 
rience he once had in Northern Queensland. 

It was in ’83, in the western portion of the 
comparatively unknown and unexplored Gulf 
of Carpentaria country, and Dick was with a 
party which had been searching for grazing 
country, and was now on its way down to the 
coast, to meet a vessel which by prearrange- 
ment was to replenish their supplies. They 
had been traveling on a gushet of land between 
two great rivers — the Abel Tasman and the 
Robinson — when the wet season suddenly 
came on, and they were hemmed in and sur- 
rounded by miles of flooded country. It was a 
terrible mockery ; some few weeks before, they 
had been dying of thirst, but with no lack of 
food ; but now they were in danger of being 
drowned, and had run out of all rations. The 
large game had taken to the ranges ; the floods 
would not allow the fish to ascend the now 
overflowing rivers ; the mob of blacks with 
them — which required considerable watching — 
had cleaned out the opossums and other small 
game on the island on which they were ; and 
their small shot had run out. An occasional 
parrot and iguana was their scanty bill of fare. 
Sometimes these, with the addition of a handful 
of flour, and made into a sort of soup, were all 
there was to support life for a whole day, 
amongst some half dozen men. Then they got 


Zbc 0dm XLvoirx Shadows* 


223 


down to snakes, and after a struggle Dick 
managed to reconcile himself to them, and even 
to consider himself lucky when the blacks 
would bring in an extra big one, and he would 
get a few extra ounces of its flesh. And then 
these, too, began to get scarce. The name of 
one of his comrades was Tom Hume, an Edin- 
burgh man, who had been a sailor in his time ; 
a man of rough exterior, but who was warm- 
hearted withal. He was an incot rigible wag, 
and spared nothing and no one when he saw a 
chance of perpetrating his little joke. 

About this time, as starving men will, they 
began to be irritable and fanciful ; starvation 
and anxiety had done their work, and they 
began to eye each other suspiciously. Hume, 
taking advantage of Dick’s verdancy, and 
knowing that that individual must have as a 
boy read his share of cannibalistic literature : 
such as the deeds perpetrated by shipwrecked 
crews, etcetera, called him aside, and imparted 
the following advice with an air of great 
secrecy — 

“ Look here, Dick, I’ve just got a hint that 
one of us has to hand in his checks — to save 
the lives of the others. Now, if I have to hand 
out the ‘ long straws and the short,’ when I 
come to you, the inside straw I If old 
MacLeod is the man who has to be sacrificed, 
take my advice and don’t touch him — starve, 
like a man, instead. He’s so full of Queens- 
land rum, that any one making a meal of him, 


224 Zbc JS>cviV 6 UMa^groun^* 

will acquire such a taste for booze that his life 
will be a misery to him for ever afterwards/’ 
Dick said in conclusion with a short laugh — 
“ The best of it was, that judging from the 
very decided partiality poor Tom had for the 
product of the sugar-cane, I should have 
imagined that he had helped to dispose of 
worse subjects than poor MacLeod in his 
time.” 

It was hardly the sort of a story that a man 
would tell a lady under ordinary circumstances. 
But on this occasion it answered its purpose; 
Mrs. Tredennis laughed in spite of the grue- 
someness of the tale. 

‘‘And how did you get out of your fix?” 
she inquired, resting her chin upon her hand, 
and regarding Dick curiously. ‘‘ Had you to 
sacrifice poor old MacLeod ? ” 

‘‘ Oh, no,” Dick rejoined ; ‘‘ one of the men 
swam the river, fetched across a horse, and we 
had a regular picnic then. And when the ship 
with our supplies made its appearance in the 
river, we treated the crew — who had been liv- 
ing on salt pork for six weeks — to what, they 
declared, were the finest mutton chops they 
had ever tasted in their lives.” 


CHAPTER XVIII. 


WHICH WINS. 

» One — two — three days now; an abandon- 
ment of hope, and grim Famine setting its seal 
upon the pinched, weary faces of the two 
doomed beings in the cave. It was glorious 
prey for King Death — the young, the strong, 
the beautiful. He had them so securely that 
he loved to linger over his work, and note the 
varying aspects of the unequal struggle, ere the 
final and grand change came, and the animate 
became the inanimate. He would insidiously 
suggest hope, so that they might experience the 
bitterness of disappointment. 

They had borne the first pangs of hunger 
and exposure, with a cheerfulness that only 
those who are fashioned in the mould of heroes 
can assume. As their sufferings became 
greater, and their waking moments were full of 
a dull agony ; still they never once murmured, 
but bore up with unwavering fortitude. Only 
when sleep came in her mercy to them, did 
they have moments of forgetfulness. Then, 
their thoughts strayed away from that forlorn, 
snow-clad, desolate landscape, and they lived 


226 Zbc 2)evir6 iPlai^gtounD, 

in a land of peace and plenty : of green, sunny 
fields, and shady meadows — Old-Country 
meadows, whose beauties only those who have 
lived and suffered in the dark places of the 
earth can fully realize. 

At times they had the hallucinations which 
come to those in delirium and the dying : when 
the present and the immediate past were ut- 
terly effaced, and in spirit they lived the happy 
days of childhood over again. When they saw, 
and spoke with those dear ones who had long 
since passed away, without the slightest con- 
sciousness of loss. Trivial incidents and scenes 
of childhood, that had long since been forgotten, 
came back with all the freshness and vividness 
of reality. There were no such things as the 
stern and worldly cares that come with the 
growing years, to dispel the tender dreams of 
youth and purity, to dim tht speaking eye, and 
furrow the fair brow. Oh ! the difference, be- 
tween Now and Then ! 

And those voices in the air : those phantom 
voices — whence came they ? Now, it was as if 
they heard a peal of marriage bells floating in 
the still air. Now, it was as if they came from 
the old church on the hilltop, and they were 
ringing out the dying year and heralding the 
new. And then, as if with some subtle sense 
of the irony of fate, they were tolling solemnly, 
sadly, and slowly, as if for the dead. Music 
was an all-potent presence to the wandering 
senses then. At times they heard snatches of 


mbtcb Mins. 


227 


the old, old familiar airs that had soothed and 
sent them to sleep as children. What a rush 
of sacred memories came with these old airs ! 
Then, it was the clear voice of a soprano, like a 
silver thread running through a brocade of gold, 
as it rose in some soul-inspiring anthem. There 
were voices that they knew well ; and voices 
that they had forgotten, but they peopled the 
air and called on them by name, and were none 
the less real to their wearied senses. 

It was early morn, and Dick Travers sat 
with a set, preoccupied face, looking out upon 
the gloom, and the snow that still drifted at 
intervals into the cave ; he could now dis- 
tinguish Mrs. Tredennis, who was lying on the 
other side opposite him, her face now looking 
thin and wasted, resting upon that old coat, 
which he would insist upon her using. She was 
asleep; it did not look much like the face of 
one to whom death was an agony, for her lips 
were slightly parted and there was a smile upon 
them. 

But her face wavered in the uncertain light, 
and the smile vanished ; a kaleidoscopic flash 
of broken thoughts and ideas in his weary 
brain, and then 

Noon, in a tropical Australian forest, with a 
burnished sun set in a cloudless sky of blue. A 
stockman’s hut peeping from a dense mass of 
greenery, with its bark roof, and overshadowed 
by giant-trees from whose branches great 


228 ^be BcviVe iPla^c^tounD* 

wreaths of trailing vines covered with flowers 
of purple, and white, and scarlet hang. There 
are golden wattle, ruellia and hybiscus blos- 
soms. Rare orchids and grotesque, antler-like 
and fleshy ferns, called, happily, the “ Stag's 
Horn," stand out from the smooth, white 
bark of the gum-tree. Among the interweav- 
ing boughs are flocks of showy birds ; there 
are flocks of gaudy parrots and parroquets, 
whose plumage flashes in the sunlight with a 
striking brilliancy. There are not more colors 
on a butterfly’s wing than in this corner of 
Eden. 

Noon exactly, and the sun right overhead ; 
and now the hitherto noisy screaming of the 
gay birds is hushed, and there is a deathly 
silence. Even the insect world is still ; only a 
peculiarly giddy specimen of the grasshopper 
family occasionally forgets itself, and indulges 
in a shrill treble of piping; but soon finding 
that no one joins in the chorus, relapses into 
silence again. 

Dick is resting in the hut on a rough bench, 
with an upturned saddle for a rest behind his 
head, looking out between waking and sleep- 
ing, into the dim vistas of the pre-Adamite 
forest. 

Thought, that can circle the globe while yet 
the magnetic current that man has made sub- 
servient to his will, has not passed from dark- 
ness into light, inscrutable are thy ways ! For 


mbicb mins* 


229 

in sleep, that is the image of death, has time 
and space been annihilated. 

And the spirit of the sleeper has passed away 
again — thousands of miles across a slumbering 
world, and over leagues of sleeping seas. 

It is an Old-Country meadow in the spring- 
time ; and he is walking with some one by his 
side, who has become dearer to him than any 
one else on earth, and who has promised to be 
his wife. He is the happiest man in the wide, 
wide world, and there is not a cloud on the sky 
of his happiness. He is looking into the face of 
her, in whose eyes he seems to see mirrored 
purity and truth. He would as soon think of 
doubting the fact of his own existence as doubt 
her nobility of soul. 

And then some one calls him ; or is it only 
one of those mocking, phantom voices ? 

Hush ! for God’s sake, do not break the 
spell that will drag the happy dreamer back to 
the hideous living death ! 

But the spell is broken, and the sleeper 
awakes ; for the woman had called out in a 
dream the name of the man, and he, as it were 
mechanically, repeats hers. His dream is shiv- 
ered, like the face of a landscape on a broken 
mirror ; and the awful present, with its grim 
twin shadows. Famine and Death, is hovering 
over him ; and because they will not put an end 
to his suffering, a horror crushes down upon his 
soul. And this, then, is the end of all things. 


230 tibe Devirs ipla^arounb^ 

A muddy, wan dawn-light is struggling into 
the cave. Dick rises and goes over to where 
the woman is. Within the last few days she 
had been a revelation to him ; he had not be- 
lieved that it were possible for a woman to 
show so much fortitude under such straits. 
She had cheered him, when dark thoughts had 
crowded upon him, as a helpmate in life might 
have done ; and though sometimes there was a 
bitterness in his thoughts towards her, his in- 
tercourse with her had weakened them. The 
inherent qualities of the man of honor within 
him had overmastered a growing feeling — a re- 
newal of the old fire — which he knew was dan- 
gerous, for both of them. She was the first to 
speak. 

“ Good-morning, Dick, do you know, I was 
dreaming about you,’' she said, and stopped, as 
if she had said more than she intended to say. 

And I of you,” he quietly said ; “ people do 
dream such absurd things sometimes.” 

How petty, how human — pitifully human — 
was this man after all ! 

And in another instant he had cursed him- 
self, as he saw the sudden look of dumb an- 
guish in her face. Could he not let this poor 
long-suffering woman be ? Why should he 
let this devil within him move him with remem- 
brances of the past, just when he fancied him- 
self most secure, and done with it for ever? 
Was she not expiating her sin with her life ? 

He looked towards the mouth of the cave, 
and a cry sprang to his lips. 


mbicb TOiin6. 


231 


The snow had ceased, and the atmosphere 
was clear as a summer’s day ; but it was cold. 

In a second he was another man ; and his 
bitter, morbid thoughts left him. 

“ Mrs. Tredennis,” he said, “ we shall soon 
end this weary waiting. The time has come 
for me to do something ; but you must stop 
where you are. I shall try to climb the cliff — 
once on the bench and they might see me for 
miles ; they will be out searching for us by this 
time. Now listen to what I have to say : do 
not attempt to leave this place — at least, for 
several hours ; if I am to get to the camp at all 
I shall have got there before that time, and 
have brought or sent help to you. Anyhow, I 
shall tear some of the lining from this coat, and 
place it out on the terrace upon the snow, so 
that any one on the brow of the cliff may see 
it.” 

He stopped suddenly and looked into her 
face, and his breath came quickly. It was a 
hard thing to communicate to her what he in- 
tended saying ; for that old love of her, which 
for the last few days had been like a slow fire 
burning within him, had flared up for the min- 
ute, and bade fair to become his master. He 
knew that, if he failed in his attempt to scale 
the cliff, he would take chances on his life by 
dropping over the terrace, and landing in a 
bank of snow. Anyhow, it was ten chances to 
one that he would never reach the camp. But 
now so near the end of the tragedy, and face to 


232 iTbe 2)ev?ir9 iPlai^grounO* 

face with Death, he determined that he would 
be true to his better self ; and perhaps the 
Great Judge would deal more mercifully with 
him, in that he was faithful in the end. He 
continued — 

“Should we not happen to meet again, I 
want you to know, that if there is anything in 
the past that you think requires my forgiveness, 
consider it as disposed of. I do not think it is 
presuming too much on my part to say this ; it 
has not been done without thinking well over 
it. I hope you will forget the many cruel and 
foolish things I have said to you ; if you could 
comprehend the state of mind in which they 
were uttered, you would have little difficulty in 
forgiving them. I thought I was more of a 
man until I met you again. You must keep 
your spirits up ; they are bound to find you be^ 
fore long if I should happen to miss them.” 
And then, as if to rob the nature of the fare- 
well of some of its tragedy, he perpetrated a 
joke that was pathetic in its very littleness — he 
reminded her of what the rat said, when it left 
its tail in the trap, about the best of friends 
parting. 

And then he said “ Good-bye.” 

There was something very pathetic in the 
pitiable smile that lit up her face, like a stray 
gleam of sunshine, just then. 

(Could mortal man match the subtlety of the 
game the devil played now ?) 

He held out his hand, but would not trust 
himself to look at her. 


mbicb 


233 


She took his hand and held it in her own ; 
but she would not let it go ; and there was a 
light in her eyes that he had seen there on more 
than one occasion. 

“ Dick ! she cried, in a voice that shook as 
if with some passion that strove to gain the 
mastery over her, “ I cannot let you go like 
this. There is something that I thought it 
would be better for you never to know, and 
that I could have told you of when you came to 
the ranche, but which, at the time, I thought 
would be dangerous to tell you. Be brave and 
hear, for I must tell it. As I swear before my 
Maker, whom I may have to meet before many 
hours, I did not throw you over for Tom 
Tredennis, until they told me that you were 
married. Your letters which had stopped com- 
ing, and other proofs which they produced, 
confirmed me in what they said. It is the old 
story, Dick ; in a moment of pique, and to show 
them how I could forget such a one as you— 
though you had broken my heart— I married 
Tredennis. He had no hand in the frauds 
that were practised on me, nor do I believe that 
he even knew of your existence. He was the 
‘ desirable party ' that my people wanted me to 
marry, and I married him. When I met you, 
and saw how you had been wronged, and not 
the wrongdoer, I felt that I could not trust you 
to know the truth ; I could hardly trust myself. 
Now, you know why I kept this from you. 
Let the truth make no difference to us now ; 


234 'BcviVe iPla^Gtouub* 

only, perhaps, think of me with more of pity 
than of anger — I was to blame, in that I ought 
to have known you better. For heaven’s sake, 
go, and I will pray for you ! ” 

Like a man who has been blind for years, 
and suddenly beholds the light of day, he stood 
dazed, and as if he could not believe the evi- 
dence of his own senses. 

Of such are the supreme moments in our lives 
— for good or evil. 

Then the full light of the truth flashed upon 
him. He knew now the reason of her strange 
conduct, and why she had not hesitated to release 
her hold upon him when they were slipping 
over the cliff together. 

It was more than poor, weak, mortal man 
could bear. Honor, and the high moral stand- 
point he had taken up, were flung to the winds. 
He took one step towards her, and, taking her 
unresisting form in his arms, clasped her to his 
breast, and pressed his lips again and again 
upon her fevered cheek. 

Surely, it was something more than human 
that came to his aid just then. He released 
her, and staggered back. How had he sunk so 
low ! Where was the man in him now ? 

'' May God forgive me for what I have done. 
I am a villain after all,” he cried, in a broken 
voice. 

But there was no resentment in the voice or 
on the face of the woman as she said — 

May God forgive us both, Dick. Perhaps, 


mblcb mine. 


235 


if we are spared, we will lead better lives for 
having passed through this. But let us make 
sure of it : let us make a compact right now — 
that, if we get out of this alive, we will rise 
superior to our pasts ; and that we will make 
our old love a stepping-stone to something 
higher and nobler. I wronged you in thinking 
that you could not bear the truth— it was judg- 
ing you by my own standard.” 

“ I can bear the truth,” he said ; “ what I 
could not bear was the thought that you could 
be false to me.” 

And these two hard-pressed and weary mor- 
tals, who stood face to face with Death — whose 
lives had been separated and wrecked by a 
cruel fate, and with only the unseen eye of the 
Omniscient to witness it — proved the nobility of 
Man, whom God has made after His own image. 

She held out her hand to him, and reverently 
he carried it to his lips, and left the cave. 

Death could do its worst now — they had 
saved their immortal souls. 

And who will say that there is no good in 
human nature after all ? 

******* 

Jack Holmes, and the two Miss Daltons had 
fared somewhat differently from their two com- 
panions, whom they had left in the neighbor- 
hood of the Devil’s Playground. They had 
good, warm buffalo robes which would keep out 
any degree of cold ; and the picnic baskets, 
under the generalship of Miss Dalton, kept 


23 ^ ^be Revive ©lais^rounb* 

them from feeling the pangs of hunger. But 
still, every bite of food they took, reminded 
them of those who might at that very moment 
be perishing miserably for want of it ; so that, 
upon the whole, they were not so reconciled to 
an impending fate, as those who were in greater 
danger and suffered more. 

On the second day, however, the two horses 
broke loose, and, traveling up the creek, struck 
the camp where Tredennis and the others were. 
These individuals, happening to look out, and 
seeing the horses, were not slow to arrive at a 
correct conclusion. 

They are down the creek,” Reynolds said ; 

the minute it clears, if we go down on snow- 
shoes, we are sure to find them. If we went 
just now we would only be getting lost ; besides, 
we might pass within a few yards of them and 
not see them, and that would only make matters 
worse.” 

Next morning, at dawn, the snow suddenly 
ceased falling, and the wind went down. In 
three minutes the party was ready, and it was 
observed that the practical Reynolds coiled his 
lariat around his body, and took it with him. 
Briggs was left in the camp to keep on the fires 
and look after the horses : and the others, ac- 
companied by the three Indians, started out. 
These three landed gentry were remarkable in- 
dividuals in their way, and their names were 
still more remarkable examples — so far as 
nomenclature was concerned. One was called, 


mbicb Mina* 


237 


as interpreted, ‘‘ Young - man - afraid - of - his 
grandmother ” ; another, ‘‘ I-hear-him-calling ” ; 
and the third rejoiced in the distinction of 
Crooked-legs.” They were true to the tra- 
ditions of their race in that they were stoics. 
But still, they proved themselves human after 
all, when Cousin Ned somewhat hindered the 
progress of the party, by insisting on diving 
head first into every snowbank he came to. 
The toes of his shoes had a most unaccountable 
predilection for sampling the drift; indeed, 
every now and again all that could be seen of 
the little man was a couple of snow-shoes 
flourishing in the air. On these occasions 
“ Crooked-legs,” and the man who was ac- 
credited with standing in fear of his maternal 
relation, would pull him out bodily by the legs 
and arms, and set him on his feet again, with 
many a wondering Ough ! Ough ! ” 

After a couple of hours’ travel, the missing 
party, consisting of the two girls and Holmes, 
was discovered : they had left their camp, and 
were making their way laboriously up the creek. 
They were little the worse from their prolonged 
exposure, but were still in a sorry plight. ** I- 
hear-him-calling ” was sent to pilot them back 
to the main camp by a route that was compara- 
tively free of snow, and which only an Indian 
could have picked out. They had wanted to 
go back, and wait in their late camp until the 
rest of the party had brought in the other two 
missing ones, but Tredennis would not hear of 


238 XLbc 2)ev{r6 iPlais^rounD* 

it, and ordered them back to the camp. Holmes 
pointed out the direction in which the ill-fated 
valley lay, and, as Reynolds and the Indians 
knew it, they started off again. 

******* 

Another hour, and the glare of the sun was 
causing them some discomfort. They could 
not be more than a couple of miles now from 
the Devil’s Playground. 

Suddenly one of the Indians raised a shout, 
and pointed ahead ; there was a dark speck, 
like a bird, picked out upon the dazzling plain, 
or bench. What was it ? They trudged on in 
a painful state of uncertainty. Then the tiny 
speck became a dark object — a bundle of rags 
it might have been, so far as appearances went 
— and they were within a hundred yards of it. 
They pushed on with beating and anxious 
hearts. 

It was the figure of a man — ‘‘ Dick ! ” they 
cried. 

The heart of Tredennis sank within him as 
he saw the figure of this man, or corpse, which- 
ever it was, lying prostrate on the snow. 
Where, then, was his wife ? 

Had they come too late ? 

One of the Indians reached the prostrate 
figure first, and raised the head. It was a 
solemn moment in the great silence that ensued. 
The others stopped short within a few feet of 
the Indian, and waited with parted lips, and 
hearts that almost ceased to beat, to hear the 
dreaded announcement. 


mbicb TOiins. 


239 


Oh ! the eternity that can be compassed in 
one short second of time ! 

‘‘He is ?” Tredennis cried; but did 

not finish the sentence. 

**Dead/” said the stoic in Cree, and Rey- 
nolds interpreted. 


CHAPTER XIX. 


CHECKMATED. 

But the Indian’s keen instincts had deceived 
him for once ; for Dick was not dead, but only 
in a stupor, which as nearly resembled that con- 
dition as it were possible to, and not be actually 
dead. And to Cousin Ned must be ascribed 
the honor of discovering it. That individual 
having studied medicine in his youth, ere riches 
came to him, observing some signs on the face 
of Dick that were not consistent with death, 
took a step nearer the body. But, somehow, 
his snow-shoes got mixed up with his legs, 
and, instead of taking a step forward, he dived 
head first right into the arms of “ Young-man- 
afraid-of-his-grandmother,” and bowled that 
gentleman over like a nine-pin. 

“ Ough ! Ough ! ” groaned the Indians. 

Truly, Tragedy and Comedy walk side by 
side through the world. 

“ For goodness sake put a flask to his lips, 
and chafe his hands,” cried Cousin Ned, ignor- 
ing the Indians, and unable to get there him- 
self. They worked like men possessed, and in 
a few minutes Dick showed signs of coming to. 


CbecI^mateD* 


241 


He opened his eyes and looked strangely at 
them for a second or two, and then, as recogni- 
tion came back into them, he cried out in a 
faint and querulous voice, “ Over the cliff, to 
the left there, for mercy's sake, hurry up — fol- 
low my tracks ! " Then he slipped back again 
into the realms of unconsciousness. 

They left Cousin Ned, and an Indian with 
him, to bring him round again, and chafe his 
numbed limbs. The others followed up the 
tracks for half a mile or so, and came to the 
place where Dick had scaled the cliff, overlook- 
ing the Devil’s Playground. 

There they found the lining of the coat that 
Dick had been unable to set up ; there being 
neither stick nor stone to enable him to do so. 
Reynolds stationed Tredennis and the Indian 
at the top of the cliff — he would not trust Tre- 
dennis to descend — and instructing them to 
hold on to the end of the rope, he flung it over 
the cliff, and began to let himself down by it. 

“ How, in the name of all that’s wonderful, 
that poor, starved Dick ever scaled this cliff,” 
Reynolds muttered, “ is beyond my com- 
prehension ! It was the grit in the beggar; 
that’s what did it ! ” 

And now, can any of those cynics, who will 
take such significantly narrow and ignoble 
views of human nature, say how it is that some 
men when fighting for their own lives, only 
make a feeble and apathetic stand ; but when 
the lives of others are depending on their ex- 


242 ^be BcviVe ©laisatounD* 

ertions, will fight like tigers, as long as there is 
a spark of life left in their bodies ? 

Reynolds lowered himself down easily. He 
could see at one place where Travers must 
have lost his hold, and fallen some considerable 
distance. “ It licks me how the beggar wasn’t 
killed ! ” he muttered. Then he came to a 
narrow ledge, and traveling along it, soon 
struck the mouth of the cave. He saw the 
figure of a woman sitting by it, who, when she 
saw him coming, sprang to her feet, and totter- 
ing, sank to the ground, as if from weakness. 
Her indomitable courage had held her up till 
then ; but the grim twin shadows, afraid that 
their prey was slipping from their hands, now 
pressed her hard. To apply restoratives was 
the work of a few seconds. When she opened 
her eyes, and was assured by Reynolds that the 
rest of the party were safe, and that they had 
found Travers, she seemed to take fresh heart 
and nerved herself for the task of ascending the 
cliff. Reynolds tied the rope securely round 
her waist, and her husband pulled her to the 
top. 

Perhaps not till then had Mrs. Tredennis 
properly understood her husband. To all ap- 
pearance he was only a man of ordinary parts, 
and undemonstrative ; but then, still waters run 
deep. 

Perhaps it was the inherent loyalty in his 
own heart that made him slow to imagine dis- 
loyalty in others ; it is the jealous man, the 


CbecftmateD* 


243 


cynic, and the sickly pessimist, who, judging 
others by their own standard, are always seeing 
the seamy side of things. 

How much of the story of the past Mrs. Tre- 
dennis told her husband no chivalrous and sen- 
sible reader will care to know. This only may 
be said, that it served to draw these closer to- 
gether who had been in considerable danger of 
drifting apart. Moreover, it made Tom Tre- 
dennis swear — and he could do it in the most 
approved old English style — that if his brother- 
in-law, who was a Cabinet Minister, had any 
influence at all, he would get a billet worthier 
of the man, whom he believed had saved the 
life of his wife, than that which he now occu- 
pied. He kept his word ; and it was on the 
strength of this billet that Dick afterwards took 
a very sensible step. 

As if they were ashamed over their defeat in 
the tragic end their presiding evil genius had 
meditated, the grim, uncouth monsters in the 
Devil’s Playground hid their ugly forms under 
heavy panoplies of snow. They were now 
almost irrecognizable ; but there was a sinister, 
lurking air about them all the same, that in the 
growing shadows seemed to say, ‘'You have 
escaped this time, but wait, our time will come 
yet.” 

But it is extremely unlikely that they will 
ever have a similar chance again. They were 
the pawns and pieces that the devil played with 


244 ^be 'BcviVe iPla^^rounD* 

when he allured his intended victims thither. 
But he made too sure of his game'; staked every- 
thing on one bold move, played into the hands 
of his opponents — and lost. 

The return journey to the camp was a slow 
and arduous one ; but the Indians proved invent- 
ive geniuses. For when they arrived at the 
creek, they constructed, with the aid of some 
boughs, and the axe and rope that Reynolds 
had brought, a species of sledge on which the 
two worn-out ones were placed, and dragged 
them over the slippery crust of snow to the 
camp. With a little nourishment discreetly 
administered, Mrs. Tredennis, and Dick, were 
soon out of danger, although weak. 

There was, indeed, reason for congratulation 
in the camp ; indeed, it is vouched for by 
Briggs, that Cousin Ned, and ''Young man- 
afraid-of-his-grandmother,” were seen to go 
behind a tent and apply their lips, in succession, 
to a flask containing the deadly but not unpleas- 
ant fire-water. They camped in that spot for 
two days, before those who had suffered in the 
snow-storm were sufficiently recovered to pro- 
ceed ; and in that time a Chinook wind — the 
warm wind that finds its way over from the 
Pacific — had come and cleared away the snow 
like magic, making traveling possible again. 

But Dick Travers was not to recover quite so 
easily ; for when he got to the ranche it was 
discovered he had broken a couple of ribs, and 
received some other injuries when he had fallen 


CbeclimatcD^ 


245 


back over the cliff. His not revealing this 
sooner, could only be accounted for by the fact, 
that he had not wished to delay their journey 
thither. So it came about that he was no 
better than a helpless cripple for some weeks. 
During that time he was waited upon by a cer- 
tain fair-haired young lady, who seemed to take 
a very particular interest in him. She was a 
very beautiful, as well as a noble-minded girl ; 
and there was something in the life of this man 
that had attracted her. That he was poor, and 
that she was very rich, was a disturbing element 
in this unselfish girl’s dreams ; had their posi- 
tions been reversed she thought, then he might 
have thought of her. 

But trust another woman for finding out such 
things, for Mrs. Tredennis discovered her 
secret ; and, perhaps, it was only safe and wise 
to tell her a little of the history of the past, 
just enough to let her understand that it was 
dead and done with, and would clear the way 
for a brighter future. Then, like a sensible 
woman, Mrs. Tredennis let things take their 
natural course. 

As for Dick, being only an ordinary mortal, 
but a healthy one withal, the revealing of the 
truth, such as it was, soothed and healed his 
outraged sense of justice. A calmer and more 
sensible view of things, put an end to what now 
seemed to have been incipient madness. In 
nine cases out of ten — and Dick’s was one of 
the nine — it is the torture of uncertainty that 


246 Zbc 2)cv(r6 ©la^grounD* 

does all the mischief ; but he proved his words 
in that he could face the truth. 

Now it needs no psychologist to explain how 
that the past effectually disposed of, there grew 
up in his heart with his fresh faith in human 
nature, a feeling which, if it were not love in 
the old, selfish, and passionate sense, was one 
that was pure and wholesome. And the girl 
who would not have exchanged her self-consti- 
tuted position as his devoted nurse, for all the 
wealth she was mistress of, was the object of 
it. 

There are three great factors that shape the 
course of all mundane affairs : and they are 
time ; that comprehensive quality we are pleased 
to call human nature ; and opportune action ; 
and it is perhaps needless to say, they brought 
about a certain happy consummation. 

The hills are old, but love is older still ; the 
former become worn and scarred by the hand 
of Time, and change the course of rivers ; but 
the ways of the little blind god are always the 
same. 


THE END, 








